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BNIV.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELE5 


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The  rider  gasped,  "Where  is  your  father,  Faith?" 

(See  page  11.) 


BROTHER    JONATHAN 


BY 

HEZEKIAH   BUTTERWORTH 

AUTHOR   OF 

IN  THE  DAYS  OF  AUDUBON,   IN   THE   BOYHOOD   OF   LINCOLN 

IN  THE  DAYS  OF  JEFFERSON,  ETC. 


NEW    YORK 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

1903 


COPTKIGHT,    1903 

By  D.   APPLETON   AND   COMPANY 


Published  September,  190S 


PREFACE 


The  writer  has  heretofore  produced  in  the  vein  of 
fiction,  after  the  manner  of  the  Miihlbach  interpretations, 
several  books  which  were  anecdotal  narratives  of  the  crises 
in  the  lives  of  public  men.  While  they  were  fiction,  they 
largely  confided  to  the  reader  what  was  truth  and  what 
the  conveyance  of  fiction  for  the  sake  of  narrative  form. 
It  was  the  purpose  of  such  a  book  to  picture  by  folk-lore 
and  local  stories  the  early  life  of  the  man. 

The  folk-lore  of  a  period  usually  interprets  the  man 
of  the  period  in  a  very  atmospheric  way.  Jonathan  Trum- 
bull, Washington's  "  Brother  Jonathan,"  who  had  a  part 
in  helping  to  save  the  American  army  in  nearly  every 
crisis  of  the  Revolutionary  War,  and  who  gave  the  popu- 
lar name  to  the  nation,  led  a  remarkable  life,  and  came 
to  be  held  by  Washington  as  "  among  the  first  of  the  pa- 
triots." The  book  is  a  folk-lore  narrative,  with  a  thread 
of  fiction,  and  seeks  to  picture  a  period  that  was  decisive 
in  American  history,  and  the  home  and  neighborhood  of 
one  of  the  most  delightful  characters  that  America  has 
ever  known — the  Roger  de  Coverley  of  colonial  life  and 
American  knighthood;  very  human,  but  very  noble,  al- 


2125731 


Ti  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

ways  true ;  the  fine  old  American  gentleman — "  Brother 
Jonathan." 

It  has  been  said  that  a  story  of  the  life  of  Jonathan 
Trumbull  would  furnish  material  for  pen-pictures  of  the 
most  heroic  episodes  of  the  Kevolutionary  War,  and  bring 
to  light  much  secret  history  of  the  times  when  Lebanon, 
Conn.,  was  in  a  sense  the  hidden  capital  of  the  political 
and  military  councils  that  influenced  the  greatest  events 
of  the  American  struggle  for  liberty.  The  view  is  in 
part  true,  and  a  son  of  Governor  Trumbull  so  felt  that 
force  of  the  situation  that  he  painted  the  scenes  of  which 
he  first  gained  a  knowledge  in  his  father's  farmhouse, 
beginning  the  work  in  that  plain  old  home  on  the  sanded 
floor. 

From  Governor  Trumbull's  war  office,  which  is  still 
standing  at  Lebanon,  went  the  post-riders  whose  secret 
messages  determined  some  of  the  great  events  of  the  war. 
Thence  went  forth  recruits  for  the  army  in  times  of  peril, 
as  from  the  forests;  thence  supplies  for  the  army  in 
famine,  thence  droves  of  cattle,  through  wilderness  ways. 

Governor  Trumbull  was  the  heart  of  every  need  in 
those  terrible  days  of  sacrifice. 

His  wife.  Faith  Trumbull,  a  descendant  of  the  Pil- 
grim Pastor  Robinson  of  Leyden,  was  a  heroic  woman 
to  whom  the  Daughters  of  the  Revolution  should  erect 
a  monument.  The  picture  which  we  present  of  her  in 
the  cloak  of  Rochambeau  is  historically  true. 

The  eminent  people  who  visited  the  secret  town  of  the 
war  during  the  great  Revolutionary  events  were  many, 
and  their  influence  had  decisive  results. 


PREFACE  vii 

Look  at  some  of  the  names  of  these  visitors :  Washing- 
ton, Lafayette,  Samuel  Adams,  Putnam,  Jefferson,  Frank- 
lin, Sullivan,  John  Jay,  Count  Rochambeau,  Admiral 
Tiernay,  Duke  of  Lauzun,  Marquis  de  Castellax,  and  the 
officers  of  Count  Rochambeau  and  many  others. 

The  post-riders  from  Governor  Trumbull's  plain  farm- 
house on  Lebanon  Hill  (called  Lebanon  from  its  cedars) 
represented  the  secret  service  of  the  war. 

When  the  influence  of  this  capital  among  the  Con- 
necticut hills  became  known.  Governor  Trumbull's  person 
was  in  danger.  A  secret  and  perhaps  self-appointed  guard 
watched  the  wilderness  roads  to  his  war  office. 

One  of  these,  were  he  living,  might  interpret  events 
of  the  hidden  history  of  the  struggle  for  liberty  in  a  very 
dramatic  way. 

Such  an  interpreter  for  the  purpose  of  historic  fiction 
we  have  made  in  Dennis  O'Hay,  a  jolly  Irishman  of  a 
liberty-loving  heart. 

In  a  brief  fiction  for  young  people  we  can  only 
illustrate  how  interesting  a  larger  study  of  this  subject 
of  the  secret  service  of  the  Revolution  at  this  place  might 
be  made.  We  shall  be  glad  if  we  can  so  interest  the  young 
reader  in  the  topic  as  to  lead  him  to  follow  it  in  solid  his- 
toric reading  in  his  maturer  years. 

HeZEKIAH    BuTTEEWOKTn. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTEB  PAGE 

I. — Two  QUEER  MEN  MEET 1 

II. — The  jolly  faemee  of  Windham  Hills  and  his  flock  of 

SHEEP 20 

III. — The  fiest  of  pateiots  at  home 30 

IV.—"  Out  you  go  " 44 

V. — The  war  office  in  the  cedaes — An  IxoLiN  tale — Inci- 
dents      58 

VI. — The  decisive  day  of  Beothee  Jonathan's  life        .       .  79 

VII. — Washington  speaks  a  name  which  names  the  republic.  104 

VIII. — Peter  Nimble  and  Dennis  in  the  alarm-post  .       .       .  123 

IX. — A  man  with  a  cane — "  Off  with  youe  hat  "    .       .       .  135 

X. — Beacons 156 

XI. — The  seceet  of  Lafayette 170 

XII. — ^Lafayette  tells  his  seceet 187 

XIII. — The  bugles  blow 199 

XrV. — A  DAUGHTEE   OF  THE  PiLGEIMS 215 

XV. — "CORNWALLIS  IS  TAKEN  I "        . 237 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PACING 
PAGE 

The  rider  gasped,  "Where  is  your  father,  Faith?"    Frontispiece 

The  surrender  of  Burgoyne 51 

"Brother   Jonathan's"    war  office   and    residence  in  Lebanon, 

Connecticut 60 

The  battle  of  Bunker  ffiU 129 

Jonathan  Trumbull 154 

Madam  Faith  Trumbull  contributing  her  scarlet  cloak  to  the 

soldiers  of  the  Revolution 223 

xi 


BROTHER  JONATHAN 


CHAPTEK   I 

TWO    QUEER    MEN    MEET 

Deitnis  0'BLa.y,  a  young  Irishman,  and  a  shipwrecked 
mariner,  had  been  landed  at  Norwich,  Conn.,  by  a  schoon- 
er which  had  come  into  the  Thames  from  Long  Island 
Sound.  A  lusty,  hearty,  clear-souled  sailor  was  Dennis; 
the  sun  seemed  to  shine  through  him,  so  open  to  all 
people  was  his  free  and  transparent  nature. 

"  The  top  of  the  morning  to  everybody,"  he  used  to 
say,  which  feeling  of  universal  brotherhood  was  quite  in 
harmony  with  the  new  country  he  had  unexpectedly 
found,  but  of  which  he  had  heard  much  at  sea. 

Dennis  looked  around  him  for  some  person  to  whom 
he  might  go  for  advice  in  the  strange  country  to  which  he 
had  been  brought.  He  did  not  have  to  look  far,  for  the 
town  was  not  large,  but  presently  a  man  whose  very  gait 
bespoke  importance,  came  walking,  or  rather  marching, 
down  the  street.     Dennis  went  up  to  him. 

"  An'  it  is  somebody  in  particular  you  must  be,"  said 
Dennis.  "  You  seem  to  me  like  some  high  officer  that  has 
lost  his  regiment,  cornet,  horse,  drum-major,  and  all;  no, 

1 


2  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

I  beg  your  pardon.  I  mean — well,  I  mean  that  you  seem 
to  me  like  one  who  might  be  more  than  you  are;  I  beg 
your  pardon  again;  you  look  like  a  magistrate  in  these 
new  parts." 

"  And  who  are  you  with  your  blundering  honesty,  my 
friend?     You  are  evidently  new  to  these  parts? 

"  And  it  is  an  Irishman  that  I  am." 

"  The  Lord  forbid,  but  I  am  an  Englishman." 

"  Then  we  are  half  brothers." 

"The  Lord  forbid.     What  brings  you  here?" 

"  Storms,  storms,  and  it  is  a  shipwrecked  mariner  that 
I  am.  And  I  am  as  poor  as  a  coot,  and  you  have  ruf- 
fles, and  laces,  and  buckles,  but  you  have  a  bit  of  heart. 
I  can  see  that  in  your  face.  Your  blood  don't  flow 
through  a  muscle.     Have  you  been  long  in  these  parts? " 

"  Longer  than  I  wish  to  have  been.  This  is  the  land 
of  blue-laws,  as  you  will  find." 

"  And  it  is  nothing  that  I  know  of  the  color  of  the 
laws,  whether  they  be  blue,  or  red,  or  white.  Can  you 
tell  me  of  some  one  to  whom  a  shipwrecked  sailor  could 
go  for  a  roof  to  shelter  him,  and  some  friendly  advice? 
You  may  be  the  very  man?  " 

"No,  no,  no.  I  am  not  your  man.  My  name  is 
Peters,  Samuel  Peters,  and  I  am  loyal  to  my  king  and  my 
own  country,  and  here  the  people's  hearts  are  turning 
away  from  both.  I  am  one  too  many  here.  But  there 
is  one  man  in  these  parts  to  whom  every  one  in  trouble 
goes  for  advice.  If  a  goose  were  to  break  her  leg  she 
would  go  to  him  to  set  it.  The  very  hens  go  and  cackle 
before  his  door.    Children  carry  him  arbutuses  and  white 


TWO  QUEER  MEN  MEET  3 

lady's-slippers  in  the  spring,  and  wild  grapes  in  the  fall, 
and  the  very  Indians  double  up  so  when  they  pass  his 
house  on  the  way  to  school.  His  house  is  in  the  perpen- 
dicular style  of  architecture,  I  think.  Close  by  it  is  a 
store  where  they  talk  Latin  and  Greek  on  the  grist  bar- 
rels, and  they  tell  such  stories  there  as  one  never  heard 
before.  He  settles  all  the  church  and  colony  troubles, 
which  are  many,  doctors  the  sick,  and  keeps  unfaculized 
people,  as  they  call  the  poor  here,  from  becoming  an 
expense  to  the  town.  He  looks  solemn,  and  wears  digni- 
fied clothes,  but  he  has  a  heart  for  everybody;  the  very 
dogs  run  after  him  in  the  street,  and  the  little  Indian 
children  do  the  same.  He  is  a  kind  of  Solomon.  What 
other  people  don't  know,  he  does.  But  he  has  a  sus- 
picious eye  for  me." 

"  That  is  my  man,  sure,"  said  Dennis.  "  Children 
and  dogs  know  what  is  in  the  human  heart.  "What  may 
that  man's  name  be  ?  Tell  me  that,  and  you  will  be  doing 
me  a  favor,  your  Honor." 

"His  name  is  Jonathan  Trumbull.  They  call  him 
'  Brother  Jonathan,'  because  he  helps  everybody,  hinders 
nobody,  and  tries  to  make  broken-up  people  over  new." 

"  And  where  does  he  live,  your  Honor? " 

"At  a  place  called  Lebanon,  there  are  so  many 
cedars  there.  I  do  not  go  to  see  him,  because  I  did 
so  once,  but  while  he  smiled  on  every  one  else,  he  scowled 
this  way  on  me,  as  if  he  thought  that  I  was  not  all  that  I 
ought  to  be.  He  is  a  magistrate,  and  everybody  in  the 
colony  knows  him.  He  marries  people,  and  goes  to  the 
funerals  of  people  who  go  to  heaven." 


4  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"That  is  my  man.     What  are  the  blue-laws?" 

"  One  of  the  blue-laws  reads  that  married  people 
must  live  together  or  go  to  jail.  If  a  man  and  woman 
who  were  not  married  were  to  go  to  him  to  settle  a  dis- 
pute, he  would  say  to  them — '  Join  your  right  hands/ 
When  he  rises  up  to  speak  in  church,  the  earth  stands 
still,  and  the  hour  glass  stops,  and  the  sun  on  the  dial. 
But  he  has  no  use  for  me." 

"  That  is  my  man,  sure,"  said  Dennis.  "  Trumbull, 
Trumbull,  but  it  was  his  ship  on  which  I  sailed  from 
Derry,  and  that  was  lost." 

"  He  has  lost  two  ships  before.  It  is  strange  that  a 
man  whose  meal-chest  is  open  to  all  should  be  so  unfor- 
tunate. It  don't  seem  to  accord  with  the  laws  of  Provi- 
dence. I  sometimes  doubt  that  he  is  as  good  as  all  the 
people  think  him  to  be." 

"  But  the  fruits  of  life  are  not  money-making,  your 
Honor.  A  man's  influence  on  others  is  the  fruit  of  life, 
and  what  he  is  and  does.  A  man  is  worth  just  what  his 
soul  is  worth,  and  not  less  or  more.  He  is  the  man  that 
I  am  after,  for  sure.    How  does  one  get  to  his  house  ? " 

"  The  open  road  from  ^Norwich  leads  straight  by  his 
house,  all  the  way  to  Boston,  through  Windham  County, 
where  lately  the  frogs  had  a  great  battle,  and  millions  of 
them  were  slain." 

Dennis  opened  his  eyes. 

"Faix?" 

"Faix,  stranger.  Yes,  yes;  I  have  just  written  an  ac- 
count of  the  battle,  to  be  published  in  England.  After 
the  frogs  had  a  battle,  the  caterpillars  had  another,  and 


TWO  QUEER  MEN  MEET  5 

then  the  hills  at  a  place  called  Moodus  began  to  rumble 
and  quake,  and  become  colicky  and  cough.  This  is  a 
strange  country. 

"  But  these  things,"  he  added,  "  are  of  little  account 
in  comparison  to  the  fact  that  the  heart  of  the  people  is 
turning  against  the  laws  that  the  good  king  and  his  min- 
ister make  for  the  welfare  of  the  colony.  They  allow  the 
people  here  to  be  one  with  the  home  government  by  bear- 
ing a  part  of  the  taxes.  And  the  people's  hearts  are 
becoming  alien.  I  do  not  wonder  that  frogs  fight,  and 
caterpillars,  and  that  the  hills  groan  and  shake  and  upset 
milk-pans,  and  make  the  maids  run  they  know  not  where." 

"  I  must  seek  that  man  they  call  '  Brother  Jonathan.' 
Something  in  me  says  I  must.  That  way?  Well,  Dennis 
O'Hay  will  start  now ;  it  is  a  sorry  story  that  I  will  have 
to  tell  him,  but  it  is  a  true  heart  I  will  have  to  take 
to  him." 

"  I  am  going  back  to  England,"  said  Mr.  Peters. 

"  "Well,  good-by  is  it  to  you,"  said  Dennis,  and  the 
young  Irishman  set  his  face  toward  Lebanon  of  the  cedars, 
on  the  road  from  Boston  to  Philadelphia  by  way  of  New 
York.  He  stopped  by  the  way  to  talk  with  the  people 
he  met  about  the  warlike  times,  and  things  happening  at 
Boston  town. 

His  mind  was  filled  with  wonder  at  what  he  heard. 
What  a  curious  man  the  same  Brother  Jonathan  might 
be!  Who  were  the  Indian  children?  What  was  the 
story  of  the  battle  of  the  frogs,  and  of  the  caterpillars; 
what  was  the  cause  of  the  coughing  mountains  at  Moodus; 
why  did  Brother  Jonathan,  a  man  of  such  great  heart, 


6  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

scowl  at  the  same  Mr.  Peters,  and  who  was  this  same 
Mr.  Peters?" 

Dennis  took  off  his  hat  as  he  went  on  toward  Lebanon, 
turning  over  in  his  mind  these  questions.  He  swung  his 
hat  as  he  went  along,  and  the  blue  jays  peeked  at  him 
and  laughed,  and  the  conquiddles  (bobolinks)  seemed  to 
catch  the  wonder  in  his  mind,  and  to  fly  off  to  the  hazel 
coverts.  Rabbits  stood  up  in  the  highway,  then  shook 
their  paws  and  ran  into  the  berry  bushes  by  the  brooks. 

Everything  seemed  strange,  as  he  hurried  on,  picking 
berries  when  he  stopped  to  rest. 

At  noon  the  sun  glared;  fishing  hawks,  or  ospreys, 
wheeled  in  the  air,  screaming.  A  bear,  with  her  cubs, 
stopped  at  the  turn  of  the  way.  The  bear  stood  up. 
Dennis  stood  still. 

The  bear  looked  at  Dennis,  and  Dennis  at  the  bear. 
Then  the  bear  seemed  to  speak  to  the  cubs,  and  she  and 
her  family  bounded  into  the  cedars. 

This  was  not  Londonderry.  Everything  was  fresh, 
shining  and  new.  At  night  the  air  was  full  of  the  wings 
of  birds,  as  the  morning  had  been  of  songs  of  birds. 

The  sun  of  the  long  day  fell  at  last,  and  the  twilight 
shone  red  behind  the  gray  rocks,  oaks  and  cedars. 

Dennis  sat  down  on  the  pine  needles. 

"  It  is  a  sorry  tale  that  I  will  have  to  tell  Brother 
Jonathan  to-morrow,"  said  he.  "It  will  hurt  my  heart 
to  hurt  his  heart." 

Then  the  whippoorwills  began  to  sing,  and  Dennis 
fell  asleep  under  the  moon  and  stars. 

If  the  reader  would  know  more  about  Mr.  Peters, 


TWO  QUEER  MEN  MEET  7 

Samuel  Peters,  let  him  consult  any  colonial  library,  and 
he  will  find  there  a  collection  of  stories  of  early  Connecti- 
cut, such  as  would  tend  to  make  one  run  home  after 
dark.  The  same  Mr.  Peters  was  an  Episcopal  clergy- 
man, who  did  not  like  the  Connecticut  main  or  the 
"  blue-laws."  » 

Dennis  came  to  the  farming  town  on  the  hills  among 
the  green  cedars;  he  banged  on  the  door  of  the  Governor's 
house  with  his  hard  knuckles,  in  real  Irish  vigor. 

The  Governor's  wife  answered  the  startling  knock. 

"  And  faith  it  is  a  shipwrecked  sailor.  I  am  from  the 
north  of  ould  Ireland,  it  is  now,  and  would  you  be  after 
a  man  of  all  work,  or  any  work?  There  is  lots  of  days  of 
work  now  in  these  two  fists,  lady,  and  that  you  may  well 
believe."     He  bowed  three  times. 

"  The  Governor  is  away  from  home,"  said  my  lady. 
"  He  has  gone  to  New  Haven  by  the  sea.  What  is  your 
name? " 

"  My  name  is  Dennis  O'Hay,  an  honest  name  as  ever 
there  was  in  Ireland  of  the  north  countrie,  and  I  am  an 
honest  man." 

"  You  look  it,  my  good  friend.  You  have  an  honest 
face,  but  there  is  fire  in  it." 

"  And  there  are  times,  lady,  when  the  coals  should 
bum  on  the  hearth  of  the  heart,  and  flame  up  into  one's 
cheeks  and  eyes.  A  storm  is  coming,  lady,  a  land  storm; 
there  are  hawks  in  the  air.  I  would  serve  you  well, 
lady.  It  is  a  true  heart  that  you  have.  I  can  see  it  in 
your  face,  lady." 

*  See  Appendix  for  some  of  Rev.  Samuel  Peters'  queer  stories, 
2 


8  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"And  what  can  you  do,  Dennis  O'Hay?  You  were 
bred  to  the  sea." 

"  And  it  is  little  that  I  can  not  do,  that  any  man  can 
do  with  his  two  fists.  You  have  brains  up  here  among 
the  hills,  lady,  but  there  may  come  a  day  that  you  will 
need  fists  as  well  as  brains,  and  wits  more  than  all,  for  I 
am  a  peaceable  man;  I  can  work,  and  I  could  suffer  or  die 
for  such  people  as  you  all  seem  to  be  up  here.  The  heart 
of  Dennis  O'Hay  is  full  of  this  new  cause  for  liberty.  I 
could  throw  up  my  hat  over  the  sun  for  that  cause,  lady. 
I  would  enlist  in  that  cause,  and  drag  the  guns  to  the 
battle-field  like  a  packhorse.  Oh,  I  am  full  of  America, 
honest  now,  and  no  blarney." 

"  I  do  not  meddle  with  my  husband's  affairs,  but  I 
can  not  turn  you  away  from  these  doors.  How  could  I 
send  away  any  man  who  is  willing  to  enlist  for  a  cause 
like  ours?  Dennis  O'Hay,  go  to  the  tavern  over  there, 
and  ask  for  a  meal  in  the  name  of  Faith  Trumbull.  Then 
come  back  here  and  I  will  give  you  the  keys  to  the  store 
in  the  war  office,  for  I  can  trust  you  with  the  keys,  and 
when  my  goodman  comes  back  I  will  send  him  to 
you." 

"  Lady,  this  is  the  time  to  say  a  word  to  you.  Ask 
about  me  among  the  other  sailors,  if  they  come  here,  so 
that  you  may  know  that  I  have  lived  an  honest  life. 
Does  not  your  goodman  need  a  guard? " 

"  I  had  never  thought  of  such  a  thing." 

"  You  are  sending  soldiers  and  food  and  cattle  to  the 
camps,  I  hear;  who  knows  what  General  Gage  might  be  led 
to  do?    They  have  secret  guards  in  foreign  parts,  men  of 


TWO  QUEER  MEN  MEET  9 

the  '  secret  service/  as  they  call  them.  Lady,  there  are 
things  that  come  to  one,  down  from  the  skies,  or  up  from 
the  soul.  It  is  all  like  the  'pattern  on  the  mount  of 
vision  *  that  they  preach  about.  A  voice  within  me  has 
been  saying,  '  Go  and  work  for  the  Governor  among  the 
hills,  and  watch  out  for  him.'  But  you  must  test  me  first, 
lady.  I  would  keep  you  from  harm;  there  is  nothing 
that  should  ever  stand  between  these  two  fists  of  Dennis 
O'Hay  and  such  as  you.  But  that  day  will  come.  I  will  go 
to  the  tavern  now,  and  God  and  all  the  saints  bless  you, 
and  your  goodman  forever,  and  make  a  great  nation  of 
this  green  land  of  America,  and  keep  the  same  Dennis 
O'Hay,  which  I  am  that,  in  the  way  of  his  duty," 

The  tavern,  which  became  an  historic  ijm,  where  some 
of  the  most  notable  people  of  America  and  of  France 
were  entertained  during  the  days  of  the  Revolution,  stood 
at  a  little  distance  from  the  Governor's  house.  Dennis 
O'Hay  went  there  so  elated  that  he  tossed  his  sailor's  hat 
into  the  air. 

"  It  is  little  that  I  would  not  do  for  a  lady  like  that," 
he  said.  "  The  sea  tossed  me  here  on  purpose.  Night, 
thou  mayest  have  my  service;  watch  me,  ye  stars!  Lib- 
erty, thou  mayest  have  my  blood;  call  me,  ye  fife  and 
drum.  Let  me  but  get  at  the  heart  of  the  Governor, 
and  his  life  and  home  shall  be  secure  from  all  harm 
under  the  clear  eye  of  Dennis  O'Hay.  Hurrah,  hurrah, 
hurrah!  and  it  is  here  I  am  in  America!  " 

The  landlord  stood  in  the  door. 

"  And  who  are  you,  my  friend?  " 

"  Dennis,  your  Honor." 


10  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"And  wliat  brings  you  here?" 

"  Not  the  ship;  for  the  ship  went  down.  What  brings 
me  here  ?     My  two  legs — no " 

He  paused,  and  looked  reverent. 

"  The  Hand  Unseen.  I  came  to  enlist  in  the  struggles 
for  the  freedom  of  America.  Give  me  a  bite  in  the  name 
of  the  lady  down  the  road." 

"  My  whole  table  is  at  your  service,  my  friend.  I  like 
your  spirit.     We  need  you  here." 

"  And  here  I  am — how  I  got  here  I  do  not  know,  but 
I  am  here,  and  my  name  is  Dennis  O'Hay," 

He  waited  long  for  the  return  of  the  Governor  to  the 
war  office,  or  country  store,  looking  out  of  the  window 
over  the  tops  of  the  green  hills. 

"  An'  faix,  I  do  believe,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  minds 
me  that  this  is  the  day  when  the  world  stands  still.     But, 

0  my  eyes,  what  is  it  that  you  see  now? " 

A  light  form  of  a  little  one  came  out  of  the  door  of 
the  Governor's  house  and  walked  to  the  war  office.  It 
was  a  girl,  beautiful  in  figure,  with  a  sensitive  face,  full 
of  sympathy  and  benevolence. 

She  opened  the  door. 

"  My  name  is  Faith,"  said  she.  "  I  am  Mr.  Trum- 
bull's daughter.  I  keep  store  sometimes  when  my  father, 
the  Governor,  is  away  late.  I  thought  I  would  open 
the  store  this  afternoon.  Customers  are  likely  to  come, 
near  nightfall." 

"I  would  help  you  tend  store,"  said  Dennis  O'Hay, 
"  if  I  only  knew  how.     It  is  not  handy  at  a  bargain  that 

1  would  be  now,  and  barter  people,  if  you  call  them  that 


TWO  QUEER  MEN  MEET  11 

here,  would  all  get  the  best  of  me.  But  I  may  be  able  to 
do  such  things  some  day." 

He  looked  out  of  the  window,  and  suddenly  exclaimed 
—"Look!" 

A  man  on  a  noble  horse  was  coming,  flying  as  it 
seemed,  down  the  Lebanon  road  from  the  Windham 
County  hills.  His  horse  leaped  into  the  air  at  times,  as 
full  of  high  spirit,  and  dashed  up  to  the  store. 

Faith,  the  beautiful  girl,  went  to  the  door. 

The  rider  gasped — "  "Where  is  your  father,  Faith?  " 

"  He  is  gone  to  New  Haven,  Mr.  Putnam." 

"  I  want  to  see  him  at  once ;  there  is  secret  news  from 
Boston.  But  I  must  see  him.  I  must  not  leave  here 
until  he  returns.    I  will  go  over  to  the  tavern  and  wait." 

Dennis  came  out  and  stood  in  front  of  the  store. 

"  Stranger,"  said  the  rider,  "  and  who  are  you  ?  You 
do  not  look  like  a  farmer." 

"  Who  am  I  ?  I  am  myself,  sure,  a  foreigner  among 
foreigners,  Dennis  O'Hay,  a  castaway,  from  the  north 
of  Ireland." 

"  And  what  brings  you  here  ?  " 

"  I  came  to  enlist,"  said  Dennis. 

"  You  will  be  wanted,"  said  Mr.  Putnam.  "  You 
have  shoulders  as  broad  as  Atlas,  who  carried  the  world 
on  his  back." 

"  The  world  on  his  back?     What  did  he  walk  upon?  " 

"  That  is  a  question  too  much,"  said  the  rider.  "  I'll 
leave  my  horse  in  your  hands,  Dennis  O'Hay,  and  go  to 
the  tavern  and  see  what  I  can  find  out  about  the  Gov- 
ernor's movements  there." 


12  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

He  strode  across  the  green. 

The  sun  was  going  down,  sending  up  red  and  golden 
lances,  as  it  were,  over  the  dark  shades  of  the  cedars.  On 
the  hills  laj  great  farms  half  in  glittering  sunlight,  half 
in  dark  shadows. 

"  Have  you  any  thought  when  the  Governor  will 
return? "  asked  the  rider  of  the  tavern-keeper. 

"No,  Israel,  I  have  not — but  I  hear  that  there  is 
important  news  from  Boston — that  it  is  suspected  that 
the  British  are  about  to  make  a  move  to  capture  the 
stores  of  American  powder  at  Concord.  The  Governor, 
I  mind  me,  knows  something  about  the  secrets  of  powder 
hiding,  but  of  that  I  can  not  be  sure." 

"  Great  events  are  at  hand,"  said  Putnam,  "  I  can  feel 
them  in  the  air.  I  had  the  same  feeling  before  the 
northern  campaign.  I  must  stay  here  until  the  Gov- 
ernor arrives." 

"  You  shall  have  the  best  the  tavern  affords,"  said 
the  innkeeper. 

The  sun  went  down  blazing  on  the  hills,  seeming  like 
a  far  gate  of  heaven,  as  its  semicircular  splendors  filled 
the  sky.  Then  came  the  hour  of  shadows  with  the  advent 
of  the  early  stars,  and  then  the  grand  procession  of  the 
night  march  of  the  hosts  of  heaven  that  looks  bright 
indeed  over  the  dark  cedars. 

The  air  was  silent,  as  though  the  world  were  dead. 
The  taverners  listened  long  in  front  of  the  tavern  for 
the  sound  of  horses'  feet  on  the  Lebanon  road. 

"Will  the  Governor  come  alone?"  asked  Dennis 
O'Hay  of  Israel  Putnam,  the  rider. 


TWO  QUEER  MEN  MEET  13 

"  Yes,  mj  sailor  friend;  who  is  there  to  harm  him? " 

"  But  there  will  be  danger.  There  ought  to  be  a  guard 
on  the  Lebanon  road.  Did  not  the  Governor  save  the 
powder,  ammunition,  and  stores,  in  the  northern  war? 
So  they  said  at  Norwich.  Some  day  General  Gage  will 
put  a  long  eyes  on  him." 

"Silence!" 

The  taverners  went  into  the  tavern  and  sat  down  in 
the  common  room. 

"  I  will  wait  until  midnight  before  I  go  to  my  room. 
My  message  to  the  Governor  must  be  delivered  as  soon 
as  he  returns." 

The  public  room  was  lighted  with  candles,  and  a  fire 
was  kindled  on  the  hearth.  It  was  spring,  but  a  hearth 
fire  had  a  cheerful  glow  even  then. 

The  taverners  talked  of  the  military  events  around 
Boston  town,  then  told  stories  of  adventure.  Dennis  came 
from  the  store,  and  sat  down  with  the  rest. 

"  Mr.  Putnam,"  said  one  of  them,  "  the  story  of  your 
hunting  the  she-wolf  is  told  in  all  the  houses  of  the  new 
towns,  but  we  have  never  heard  it  from  yourself.  The 
clock  weights  sink  low,  and  we  wish  to  keep  awake.  Tell 
us  about  that  wily  wolf,  and  how  you  felt  when  your 
eyes  met  hers  in  the  cave." 

THE  WITCH-WOLP 

"  I  never  boast  of  the  happenings  of  my  life,"  said 
Israel  Putnam.  "  It  is  my  nature  to  dash  and  do,  and  I 
but  give  point  to  the  plans  of  others.  That  is  nothing 
to  boast  of.     Put  on  cedar  wood  and  I  will  tell  the  tale 


14  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

of  that  cunning  animal,  a  ^  witch-wolf/  as  some  call  her, 
as  well  as  I  can.  The  people  at  the  taverns  often  ask 
me  to  kill  time  for  them  in  that  waj. 

"  I  came  to  Pomfret  in  1749.  For  some  years  I  was 
a  busy  man,  toiling  early  and  late,  as  you  may  know.  I 
raised  a  house  and  barn;  some  of  you  were  at  the  raising. 
I  chopped  down  trees,  made  fences,  planted  apple-trees, 
sowed  and  reaped. 

"  My  farm  grew.  I  had  a  growing  herd  of  cattle,  but 
my  pride  was  in  my  flock  of  sheep. 

"  One  morning,  as  I  went  out  to  the  hill  meadows,  I 
found  that  some  of  my  finest  sheep  had  disappeared.  I 
called  them,  and  I  wandered  the  woods  searching  for 
them,  but  they  were  not  to  be  found.  Then  a  herdman 
came  to  me  and  said  that  he  had  found  blood  and  wool  in 
one  place,  and  sheep  bones  in  another,  and  that  he  felt 
sure  that  the  missing  sheep  had  been  destroyed  by  power- 
ful wolves. 

"  In  a  few  days  other  sheep  were  missing.  Day  by  day 
passed,  and  I  lost  in  a  few  months  a  great  number  of 
sheep. 

"  One  morning  I  went  out  to  the  sheepfolds,  and 
found  that  some  animal  had  killed  a  whole  flock  of  sheep. 

"  '  It  is  a  she-wolf  that  is  the  destroyer,'  said  a  herd- 
man,  '  a  witch-wolf,  it  may  be.  Would  you  dare  to 
attack  her? ' 

"  My  brain  was  fired.  There  lay  my  sheep  killed 
without  a  purpose,  by  some  animal  in  which  had  grown 
a  thirst  for  blood. 

" '  Yes,  yes — '  said  I, '  wolf  or  demon,  whatever  it  be, 


TWO  QUEER  MEN  MEET  15 

I  will  give  my  feet  no  rest  until  I  hold  its  tongue  in  my 
own  hands,  and  that  I  will  do.  I  have  force  in  my  head, 
and  iron  in  my  hands.  Call  the  neighbors  together  and 
let  us  have  a  wolf  hunt.' 

"  The  neighbors  were  called  together,  and  the  conch 
shell  was  blown.  We  tracked  the  wolf  and  got  sight  of 
her.  She  was  no  witch,  but  a  long,  gaunt,  powerful  she- 
wolf,  a  great  frame  of  bones,  with  a  sneaking  head  and 
evil  eyes. 

"  We  pursued  her,  but  she  was  gone.  She  seemed  to 
vanish.  *  She  is  a  witch,'  said  the  herdman.  '  She  is 
no  witch,'  said  I,  '  and  if  she  were,  it  is  my  duty  to  put 
her  out  of  existence,  and  I  will! ' 

"  We  hunted  her  again  and  again,  but  she  was  too 
cunning  for  us.  She  disappeared.  She  would  be  absent 
during  the  summer,  but  in  the  fall  she  would  return,  and 
bring  her  summer  whelps  with  her.  She  fed  her  brood 
not  only  on  my  flocks  but  on  those  of  the  farms  of  the 
country  around.  We  gathered  new  bands  to  hunt  her; 
the  people  rose  in  arms  against  her — against  that  one 
cunning  animal, — Put  cedar  wood  on  the  fire. 

"  I  formed  a  new  plan.  We  would  hunt  her  con- 
tinuously, two  at  a  time. 

"  She  lost  a  part  of  one  foot  in  a  steel  trap  at  last. 
Then  the  people  came  to  know  that  she  was  no  witch. 
We  could  track  her  now  by  the  mark  of  the  three  feet 
in  the  snow.  She  limped,  and  her  three  sound  feet  could 
not  make  the  quick  shifts  that  her  four  feet  had  made 
of  old. 

"  One  day  we  set  out  on  a  continuous  hunt.     We  fol- 


16  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

lowed  her  from  our  farms  away  to  the  Connecticut  River. 
Then  the  three-footed  animal  came  back  again,  and  we 
followed  her  back  to  the  farms. 

"  But  the  bloodhounds  now  knew  her  and  had  got 
scent  of  her,  and  they  led  us  to  a  den  in  the  woods.  This 
den  was  only  about  three  miles  from  my  house.  She  may 
have  hidden  in  it  many  times  before. 

"  We  gathered  before  the  den,  and  lighted  straw  and 
pushed  it  into  the  den  to  drive  her  out.  But  she  did  not 
appear. 

"  Then  we  put  sulphur  on  the  straw  and  forced  it 
into  the  den,  so  that  it  might  fill  the  cavern  with  the 
fumes.  But  the  three-footed  wolf  did  not  come  out  of 
the  den.  The  cave  might  be  a  large  one;  it  might  have 
an  opening  out  some  other  way. 

"  We  called  a  huge  dog,  and  bade  him  to  enter  the 
cave.  He  dove  down  through  the  opening.  Presently 
we  heard  him  cry;  he  soon  backed  out  of  the  opening, 
bleeding.     The  wolf  was  in  the  cave. 

"Another  dog,  and  another  were  forced  to  enter  the 
cave,  both  returning  whining  and  bleeding.  Neither 
smoke  nor  dogs  were  able  to  destroy  that  animal  that  had 
made  herself  a  terror  of  the  country  round. 

"  I  called  my  negro  herder. 

" '  Sam,'  said  I,  '  you  go  into  the  cave  and  end  that 
animal.' 

" '  E'ot  for  a  thousand  pounds,  nor  for  all  the  sheep 
on  the  hills  of  the  Lord.  What  would  become  of  Sam? 
Look  at  the  dogs'  noses.  Would  you  send  me  where  no 
dog  could  go  ? ' 


TWO  QUEER  MEN  MEET  17 

"  '  Then  I  shall  go  myself,'  said  I,  for  nothing  can 
stop  me  from  anything  when  my  resolution  has  gathered 
force;  there  are  times  when  I  must  lighten. 

"  I  took  off  my  coat  and  prepared  to  go  down  into  the 
cave.  My  neighbors  held  me  back.  I  took  a  torch,  and 
plunged  down  the  entrance  to  the  cave,  head  first,  with 
the  torch  blazing. 

"  Had  I  made  the  effort  with  a  gun,  the  wolf  might 
have  rushed  at  me,  but  she  crouched  and  sidled  back 
before  the  fire. 

"  The  entrance  was  slippery,  but  my  will  forced 
me  on. 

"I  could  rise  up  at  last.  The  cave  was  silent;  the 
darkness  might  be  felt.  I  doubt  that  any  human  being 
had  ever  entered  the  place  before. 

"  I  walked  slowly,  then  turning  aside  my  torch,  peered 
into  the  thick  darkness. 

"  Two  fierce  eyes,  like  balls  of  fire,  confronted  me. 
The  she-wolf  was  there,  waiting  for  some  advantage,  but 
cowed  by  the  torch. 

"  Presently  I  heard  a  growl  and  a  gnashing  of 
teeth. 

"  I  had  drawn  into  the  cave  a  rope  tied  around  my 
body,  so  that  I  might  be  drawn  out  by  my  neighbors  if 
I  should  need  help.  I  gave  the  signal  to  pull  me  out. 
I  understood  the  situation. 

"  I  was  drawn  up  in  such  a  way  that  my  upper  cloth- 
ing was  pulled  over  my  body,  and  my  flesh  was  torn.  I 
grasped  my  gun  and  crawled  back  again. — Put  more 
cedar  wood  on  the  fire. 


18  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"  I  saw  the  ejes  of  the  wolf  again.  I  heard  her  snap 
and  growl.     I  leveled  my  gun. 

"  Bang  !  The  noise  seemed  to  deafen  me.  The  smoke 
filled  the  cave. 

"  I  gave  a  signal  to  my  neighbors  to  draw  me  out.  I 
listened  at  the  mouth  of  the  cave.  All  was  silent.  The 
smoke  must  have  found  vent.  I  went  into  the  cave 
again. 

"  It  was  silent. 

"  I  found  the  body  of  the  wolf.  It  was  stiff  and  was 
growing  cold.  I  took  hold  of  her  ears  and  gave  a  signal 
to  those  outside  to  draw  me  out. 

"  As  I  was  drawn  from  the  mouth  of  the  cave  I 
dragged  the  wolf  after  me. 

"  Then  my  friends  set  up  a  great  shout.  My  eyes 
had  met  those  of  the  she-wolf  but  once,  then  there  was 
living  fire  in  them,  terrible  but  pitiful.  Hark — ^what  is 
that?" 

There  was  a  sound  of  horses'  feet. 

"  The  Governor  is  coming,"  said  one  of  the  taverners. 

Israel  Putnam  ran  out  to  meet  him,  and  spoke  to  him 
a  few  words. 

"  Let  us  go  to  the  war  office  at  once,  and  shut  the 
door  and  be  by  ourselves,"  said  the  Governor. 

They  hurried  to  the  war  office,  and  the  Governor  shut 
the  door,  not  to  open  it  again  until  morning. 

Dennis  O'Hay  went  back  to  the  tavern,  and  wondered 
and  wondered. 

"  Faix,  and  this  is  a  quare  country,  and  no  mistake," 
said  he.    What  would  the  Governor  say  to  him  ? 


TWO  QUEER  MEN  MEET  19 

Would  he  be  the  first  to  tell  him  that  the  ship  had 
gone  down? 

He  talked  with  taverners  about  the  subject. 

"  I  must  break  the  news,  gently  like,"  he  said.  "  I 
would  hate  to  hurt  his  heart." 

"  He  has  lost  ships  before,"  said  one. 

"  His  losses  have  made  him  a  poor  man,"  said  another. 
"  But  he  marches  right  on  in  the  way  of  duty,  as  though 
he  owned  the  stars." 

Dennis  fell  asleep  on  the  settle,  wondering,  and  he 
must  have  dreamed  wonderful  dreams. 


CHAPTER   II 

THE   JOLLY   FAEMEE   OF   WINDHAM   HILLS   AND   HIS   FLOCK 
OF    SHEEP 

Theee  was  an  old  manor  in  sunny  England  to  which 
Lord  Cornwallis  used  to  resort,  and  a  certain  Captain 
Blackwell  purchased  a  territory  in  Windham,  Conn., 
among  the  green  hills  and  called  it  Mortlake  Manor,  after 
the  English  demesne.  Here  Israel  Putnam  purchased  a 
farm  of  some  500  acres,  at  what  is  now  Pomfret,  Conn., 
and  began  to  raise  great  herds  of  cattle  and  flocks  of 
sheep,  and  to  plant  apple-trees. 

He  was  made  a  major  in  the  northern  campaign,  after- 
ward a  colonel,  then  in  the  Indian  War  he  became  a 
general.  They  called  him  "  Major  Putnam,"  for  the  title 
befitted  his  character,  and  he  wished  to  be  sparing  of 
titles  among  the  farmers  of  Windham. 

Israel  Putnam  was  born  a  hero.  He  had  in  him  the 
spirit  of  a  Hannibal.  He  had  character  as  well  as  dar- 
ing; his  soul  rose  above  everything,  and  he  never  feared 
a  face  of  day. 

He  had  the  soul  of  Cincinnatus,  and  not  of  a  Caesar. 
He  could  leave  the  plow,  and  return  to  it  again. 

His  conduct  in  the  northern  campaign  had  shown 
20 


THE  JOLLY  FARMER  OF  WINDHAM  HILLS  21 

the  unselfish  character  of  his  heroism.  A  jolly  farmer 
was  he,  and  as  thrifty  as  he  was  jolly.  He  could  strike 
hard  blows  for  justice  and  liberty,  and  like  a  truly  brave 
man  he  could  forgive  his  enemies  and  help  them  to  rise 
in  a  right  spirit  again. 

Why  had  he  come  here  at  this  time? 

Let  us  go  into  the  store,  or,  as  it  was  beginning  to 
be  called,  the  "  war  office,"  with  these  two  men  of  destiny. 

"  Governor  Trumbull,"  he  said,  "  I  am  about  to  go  to 
Boston,  and  I  want  your  approval.  Boston  is  being 
ruined  by  British  oppression.  She  is  almost  famine- 
stricken,  and  why?  Because  her  people  are  true  to  their 
rights. 

"  Governor,  I  can  not  sleep.  Think  of  the  situation. 
Here  I  am  on  my  farm,  with  hundreds  of  sheep  around 
me,  and  the  men  of  liberty  of  Boston  town  are  sitting 
down  to  half-empty  tables.  Some  of  my  sheep  must  be 
driven  away. 

"  They  must  be  started  on  their  way  to  Worcester, 
and  to  Newtowne,  and  to  Boston,  and.  Governor,  the  flock 
must  grow  by  the  way. 

"  I  am  going  to  ask  the  farmers  to  swell  the  number 
of  the  flock  as  I  start  with  my  own.  Boston  Common  is 
a  British  military  post  now — ^but  I  am  going  to  Boston 
Common  with  my  sheep,  and  my  flock  will  grow  as  I  go, 
and  I  will  appear  there  at  the  head  of  a  company  of  sheep, 
and  if  the  British  Government  does  not  lift  its  hand  from 
Boston  town,  I  will  go  there  with  a  company  of  soldiers. 
Have  I  your  contentment  in  the  matter?" 

"  Yes,  go,  hero  of  Lake  George  and  of  Ticonderoga, 


22  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

go  with  your  sheep  and  your  flock,  increase  it  as  it  goes; 
but  as  for  that  other  matter  you  suggest,  let  us  talk  of 
that,  the  matter  of  what  is  to  be  done  if  British  oppres- 
sion is  to  increase." 

They  talked  all  night,  and  Putnam  said  that  the  liber- 
ties of  the  colonies  were  more  than  life  to  him,  and  that 
he  stood  ready  for  any  duty.  He  rode  away  in  the  light 
of  the  morning. 

As  he  passed  the  tavern,  Dennis  O'llay  went  to  the 
war  ofiice,  where  the  Connecticut  militia  used  to  appear, 
to  meet  the  Governor. 

"  The  top  of  the  morning  to  you.  Governor,"  said 
Dennis,  holding  his  cap  in  his  hand  above  his  head. 

"  My  good  friend,  I  do  not  know  you,"  said  the 
Governor,  "  but  that  you  are  here  for  some  good  purpose, 
I  can  not  doubt.     What  is  your  business  with  me  ? " 

"  I  was  a  sailor,  sir,  and  our  ship  went  down,  sir,  but 
I  came  up,  sir,  and  am  still  on  the  top  of  the  earth.  I 
am  an  Irishman,  sir,  from  Ireland  of  the  North,  that 
breeds  the  loikliest  men  on  the  other  side  of  the  world,  sir, 
among  which,  please  your  Honor,  I  am  one. 

"  I  have  heard  about  the  stamp  act,  sir.  England 
has  taxed  Ireland  into  the  earth,  sir.  We  live  in  hovels, 
sir,  that  the  English  may  dwell  in  castles,  sir.  I  wouldn't 
be  taxed,  sir,  were  I  an  American  without  any  voice  in 
the  government,  sir.     That  would  be  nothing  but  slavery. 

"  I  would  like  to  enlist,  sir.  I  have  heard  of  the 
minutemen,  sir,  and  it  is  a  half-a-minute  man  that  I 
would  like  to  become." 

"I  see,  I  see,  my  good  fellow;  I  read  the  truth  of 


THE  JOLLY  FARMER  OF  WINDHAM  HILLS  23 

what  you  say  in  your  looks.  Let  me  go  to  my  breakfast, 
and  I  will  talk  over  your  case  with  my  wife,  Faith,  and 
my  daughters,  and  my  son  John.  In  the  meantime,  go 
and  get  your  breakfast  in  the  tavern." 

"  The  top  of  this  earth  and  all  the  planets  to  you,  sir." 

After  breakfast  the  Governor  summoned  Dennis  to 
the  store,  which  came  to  be  called  the  "  war  office."  The 
back  room  in  the  store  was  the  council  room. 

"  Did  you  notice  that  man  who  rode  away  in  the 
morning?  "  he  asked. 

"  Sure,  I  did,  sir.  I  heard  him  tell  a  story  last  night 
in  the  tavern.  The  flesh  was  gone  from  one  of  his 
hands." 

"  It  was  torn  from  his  hand  while  pouring  water  on 
a  fire  which  was  burning  the  barracks  near  a  magazine 
which  contained  300  barrels  of  powder.  That  was  in  the 
north." 

"Did  he  save  the  magazine?" 

"  Yes,  my  good  friend.  He  is  a  brave  man,  and  he  is 
soon  going  with  a  drove  of  sheep  to  Boston. 

"  You  ask  for  work,"  continued  the  Governor.     "  I 

want  you  to  go  with  that  man.  Major,  Colonel,  General 

Putnam,  and  his  drove  of  sheep  to  Boston,  and  to  keep 

your  eye  out  on  the  way,  so,  if  needed,  you  might  go 

over  it  again.     I  wish  to  train  a  few  men  to  learn  a 

swift  way  to  Boston  town.     You  may  be  one  of  them. 

I  will  have  a  horse  saddled  for  you  at  once;  follow  that 

man  to  Pomfret,  to  the  manor  farm  at  Windham.    I  will 

write  you  a  note  to  him,  a  secret  note,  which  you  must  not 

open  by  the  way." 
3 


24:  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"N'ever  you  fear,  Governor;  I  couldn't  read  it  if  I 
did,  but  I  can  read  life  if  I  can  not  read  messages." 

In  a  few  minutes  he  was  in  the  saddle,  with  his  face 
turned  toward  the  Windham  hills. 

He  found  General  Putnam,  the  "  Major,"  on  his  farm. 

"  It  is  the  top  of  the  morning  that  I  said  to  the  Gov- 
ernor this  morning,  and  it  is  the  top  of  the  evening  that 
I  say  to  you  now.  I  am  Dennis  O'Hay,  from  the  north 
of  Ireland,  and  it  is  this  message — which  may  ask  that  I 
be  relieved  of  my  head  for  aught  I  know — ^that  the  Gov- 
ernor he  asked  me  to  put  into  your  hand.  He  wants  me 
to  learn  all  the  way  to  Boston  town,  so  that  I  may  be 
able  to  drive  cattle  there,  it  may  be.  I  am  ready  to  do 
anything  to  make  this  country  the  land  of  liberty.  After 
all  that  ould  Ireland  has  suffered,  I  want  to  see  America 
free  and  glorious — and  hurrah,  free!  That  word  comes 
out  of  my  heart;  I  don't  know  why  I  say  it.  It  rises  up 
from  my  very  soul." 

"  You  shall  learn  all  the  way  to  Boston  town,"  said 
the  Major,  "  and  I  hope  I  shall  not  find  you  faithless,  or 
give  you  over  to  the  British  to  be  dealt  with  according 
to  the  law." 

Putnam  was  preparing  to  leave  for  his  long  journey 
on  the  new  Boston  road.  His  neighbors  gathered  around 
him,  and  young  farmers  brought  to  him  fine  sheep,  to 
add  to  those  he  had  gathered  for  the  suffering  patriots 
of  Boston  town. 

The  driver  of  this  flock  knew  the  way,  the  post- 
houses,  the  inns,  the  ordinaries,  and  the  Major  assigned 
Dennis  to  him  as  an  assistant. 


THB  JOLLY  FARMER  OP  WINDHAM  HILLS  25 

Putnam  was  a  lusty  man  at  this  time,  in  middle  life. 
He  wore  homespun  made  from  his  own  flocks.  His  great 
farm  among  the  hills  had  been  developed  until  it  was 
made  sufficient  to  support  a  large  family  and  many  work- 
people. He  raised  his  own  beef,  pork,  corn,  grain,  apples 
and  fruit,  and  poultry.  His  family  made  their  own  but- 
ter and  cheese;  his  wife  wove  the  clothing  for  all;  spun 
her  own  yarn.  The  manor  farm  might  have  been  iso- 
lated for  a  hundred  years,  and  yet  thrift  would  have 
gone  on. 

No  one  was  ever  more  self-supporting  than  the  old- 
time  thrifty  !N^ew  England  farmer.  His  farm  was  more 
independent  than  a  baron's  castle  ki  feudal  days. 

He  "  put  off  "  his  butter,  cheese  and  eggs,  or  bartered 
them  for  "  West  India  goods  " ;  but  even  in  these  things 
he  might  have  been  independent,  for  his  maple-trees  might 
have  yielded  him  sugar,  and  roasted  crusts  and  nuts  a 
nutritious  substitute  for  coffee  and  tea. 

Putnam  drove  away  his  sheep,  stopping  at  post-houses 
by  the  way,  and  telling  some  merry  and  some  thrilling 
stories  there  of  the  wild  campaign  of  the  north,  and  of 
his  escapes  from  the  Indians  under  Pontiac. 

He  arrived  at  Boston  and  was  welcomed  by  the  patriot 
Warren. 

A  British  officer  faced  him. 

"  And  you  have  come  down  here,"  said  the  British 
officer,  "  to  contend  against  England's  arm  with  a  lot  of 
sheep.  If  you  rebels  do  not  cease  your  opposition,  do 
you  want  to  know  what  will  happen? " 

"Yes." 


26  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"  Twenty  ships  of  the  line  and  twenty  regiments  will 
be  landed  at  the  port  of  Boston." 

"  If  that  day  comes,  I  shall  return  to  Boston,  and  I 
shall  bring  with  me  men  as  well  as  sheep." 

"Ho,  ho!"  laughed  the  British  officer.  "That  is 
your  thought,  is  it,  hey?  It  is  treason,  sir;  treason  to  the 
British  Crown." 

"  Sir,"  said  Putnam,  "  an  enemy  to  justice  is  my 
enemy;  is  every  man's  enemy.  It  is  a  man's  duty  to 
stand  by  human  rights." 

Dennis  studied  every  farmhouse  and  nook  and  corner 
by  the  way.  He  had  a  quick  mind  and  a  responsive  heart, 
and  he  was  learning  America  readily. 

He  could  read  lettered  words,  so  he  looked  well  at  the 
sign-boards  at  four  corners  and  on  taverns  and  mile- 
stones. He  "  stumbled "  in  book  reading,  but  could 
define  signs. 

"  Could  you  find  your  way  back  again? "  asked  the 
Major  of  him,  as  they  rested  beneath  the  great  trees  on 
Boston  Common. 

"And  sure  it  is.  Major.  I  would  find  my  way  back 
there  if  I  had  been  landed  at  the  back  door  of  the  world." 

"  "Well,"  said  the  Major,  "  then  you  may  go  back  in 
advance  of  us  alone." 

Dennis  parted  from  the  Major,  and  dismounted  in  a 
couple  of  days  or  more  before  the  Governor's  war  office 
with 

"  And  it  is  the  top  of  the  morning,  it  is.  Governor." 

"  Did  you  bring  a  recommendation  from  the  Major  ?  " 
asked  the  Governor. 


THE  JOLLY  FARMER  OF  WINDHAM  HILLS  27 

"  No,  no,  he  sent  me  on  ahead,  but  I  can  give  a  good 
report  of  him." 

"  That  is  the  same  as  though  he  brought  a  good  report 
of  you.  A  man  who  speaks  well  of  his  master  is  gener- 
ally to  be  trusted. 

"  Well,  you  know  the  way  to  Boston  town.  I  think 
that  I  can  now  make  you  useful  to  me,  and  to  the  cause. 
We  will  see." 

Dennis  found  work  at  the  tavern.  He  would  sit  on 
the  tavern  steps  to  watch  for  the  Governor  in  the  evenings 
when  the  latter  appeared  on  the  green.  He  soon  joined 
the  good  people  in  calling  the  Governor  "  Brother  Jona- 
than." 

Dennis  was  superstitious — most  Irishmen  are — but  he 
was  hardly  more  given  to  ghostly  fears  than  the  Connecti- 
cut farmers  were.  Nearly  every  farmstead  at  that 
period  had  its  ghost  story.  Good  Governor  Trumbull 
would  hardly  have  given  an  hour  to  the  fairy  tale,  but 
he  probably  would  have  listened  intently  to  a  graveyard 
or  "  witch  "  story. 

People  did  not  see  angels  then  as  in  old  Hebrew  days, 
but  thought  that  there  were  sheeted  ghosts  that  came  out 
of  graveyards,  or  made  night  journeys  through  lonely 
woods,  and  stood  at  the  head  of  garret  stairs,  "  aven- 
ging "  spirits  that  haunted  those  who  had  done  them 
wrong. 

So  we  only  picture  real  life  when  we  bring  Dennis 
into  this  weird  atmosphere,  that  made  legs  nimble,  and 
cats  run  home  when  the  clouds  scudded  over  the  moon. 

Dennis  had  heard  ghost  story  after  ghost  story  on  his 


28  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

journey  and  at  tlie  store.  Almost  everybody  had  at  least 
one  such  story  to  tell;  how  that  Moodus  hills  would  shake 
and  quake  at  times,  and  tip  over  milk-pans,  and  cause  the 
maid  to  hide  and  the  dog  to  howl;  how  the  timbers 
brought  together  to  build  a  church,  one  night  set  to  caper- 
ing and  dancing;  how  a  woman  who  had  a  disease  that 
"  unjinted  her  jints "  (unjointed  her  joints)  came  all 
together  again  during  a  great  "  revival " ;  how  witches 
took  the  form  of  birds,  and  were  shot  with  silver  bullets; 
and  like  fantastic  things  which  might  have  filled  volumes. 

"  I  never  fear  the  face  of  day,"  said  Dennis,  "  but 
apparitions!  Oh,  for  my  soul's  sake,  deliver  me  from 
them!  I  am  no  ghost-hunter — I  never  want  to  face 
anything  that  I  can't  shoot,  and  on  this  side  of  the  water 
the  woods  are  full  of  people  that  won't  sleep  in  their 
graves  when  you  lay  them  there.  I  shut  my  eyes.  Yes, 
when  I  see  anything  that  I  can't  account  for,  I  shut  my 
eyes." 

That  was  the  cause  of  the  spread  of  superstition. 
People  like  Dennis  "  shut  their  eyes."  Did  they  meet  a 
white  rabbit  in  the  bush,  they  did  not  investigate — they 
ran. 

Dennis  would  have  faced  a  band  of  spies  like  a  giant, 
but  would  have  run  from  the  shaking  of  a  bush  by  a 
mouse  or  ground  squirrel  in  a  graveyard. 

He  once  saw  a  sight  that,  to  use  the  old  term,  "  broke 
him  up."  He  was  passing  by  a  family  graveyard  when 
he  thought  that  an  awful  apparition  that  reached  from 
the  earth  to  the  heavens  rose  before  him. 

"  Oh,  and  it  was  orf ul !  "  said  he.    "  It  riz  right  up  out 


THE  JOLLY  FARMER  OP  WINDHAM  HILLS  29 

of  the  graves  into  the  air,  with  its  paws  in  the  moon.  It 
was  a  white  horse,  and  he  whickered.  My  soul  went  out 
of  me;  I  hardly  had  strength  enough  in  my  legs  to  get 
back  to  the  green;  and  when  I  did,  I  fell  flat  down  on  my 
face,  and  all  America  would  never  tempt  me  to  go  that 
way  again." 

The  white  horse  whose  "  paws  "  were  in  the  moon  was 
only  an  animal  turned  out  into  the  highway  to  pasture, 
that  lifted  himself  up  on  the  stout  bough  of  a  grave- 
yard wild  apple-tree  to  eat  apples  from  the  higher  limbs. 
Horses  were  fond  of  apples,  and  would  sometimes  lift 
themselves  up  to  gather  them  in  this  way. 

The  ghost  story  was  the  favorite  theme  at  the  store 
on  long  winter  evenings. 

"If  one  could  be  sure  that  they  met  an  evil  ghost, 
one  would  know  that  there  must  be  good  spirits  that  had 
gone  farther  on,"  reasoned  the  men. 

"They  may  as  well  all  go  farther  on,"  said  Dennis. 
"  Such  things  do  not  haunt  good  people." 


CHAPTER   III 

THE    FIKST    OF    PATRIOTS    AT    HOME 

A  NOBLE  private  school  first  made  Lebanon  of  tlie 
cedars  famous.  It  had  been  founded  by  the  prosperous 
hill  farmers  under  the  influence  of  the  Governor.  To 
this  school  the  latter  sent  his  five  children,  who  prepared 
there  for  college  or  the  higher  schools. 

The  Governor  possessed  a  strong  mind,  that  was  so 
clear  and  full  of  imagination  as  to  be  almost  poetic  and 
prophetic. 

The  Scriptures  were  his  book  of  poems,  and  he  read 
many  books — Joh  in  Hebrew,  and  John  in  Greek. 

At  home  among  his  five  children,  all  of  whom  were 
destined  to  be  notable,  and  two  of  them  famous,  he  was 
an  ideal  father.  His  one  thought  was  to  educate  his 
children  for  usefulness. 

One  of  his  sons  was  named  John,  bom  in  1Y56.  l^early 
all  of  my  readers  have  seen  his  work,  for  it  was  his  gift  to 
paint  the  dramatic  scenes  of  the  Revolutionary  War,  and 
these  great  historical  paintings  adorn  not  only  the  rotunda 
of  the  Capitol  at  Washington,  but  several  of  them  most 
public  halls,  and  tens  of  thousands  of  patriotic  homes  in 
the  country,  especially  The  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  The 
30 


THE  FIRST  OF  PATRIOTS  AT  HOME  31 

Signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  The  Death 
of  Wolf,  The  Surrender  of  Cornwallis,  and  Washington's 
Farewell  to  his  Army. 

The  home  of  the  Governor  may  have  been  matted, 
but  was  not  carpeted.  It  was  the  custom  at  that  time 
to  strew  white  sand  over  floors  and  to  "  herring-bone  " 
spare  rooms.     Of  this  sand  we  have  a  curious  story. 

Two  of  the  daughters,  Faith  and  Mary,  were  born  to 
a  love  of  art.  They  were  sent  to  school  in  Boston  after 
graduating  at  the  Lebanon  school,  and  there  Faith  began 
to  admire  portraits  painted  in  oil. 

She  studied  painting  in  oil,  and  she  returned  to  her 
plain  and  simple  home.  She  hung  upon  the  walls  two 
portraits  painted  by  her  own  hand  that  were  a  local 
wonder. 

The  Governor  looked  upon  his  gifted  daughter's  work 
with  commendable  pride. 

"  You  have  done  well,  Faith.  I  did  not  expect  such 
gifts  of  you.  To  detain  age,  in  keeping  the  face  at  the 
age  in  which  it  is  painted,  is  indeed  a  noble  art.  It  is 
worthy  of  you.  Faith." 

At  this  time  John  Trumbull  was  a  little  boy.  He  had 
been  housed  and  nursed  tenderly  by  his  mother,  because 
he  had  a  misformed  head  which  had  to  be  shaped  out  of 
a  defect  by  pressure. 

This  boy  turned  his  face  to  his  sister  Faith's  paintings 
with  surprise,  as  they  transformed  the  walls  of  the  room. 

"  I  want  to  paint,  too,"  said  he. 

"No,  no,"  said  the  Governor,  "painting  is  not  for 
boys," 


32  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

He  asked  his  sister  for  oils. 

"  You  are  too  young,"  thought  the  artistic  Faith,  who 
was  a  loving,  noble  sister. 

"  But  I  must,  I  must." 

One  day  his  mother  entered  the  sanded  room.  The 
white  sand  had  been  disturbed.  It  was  lying  about  in 
curious  angles.  She  stopped;  the  sand  had  formed  a 
picture.  Whose  picture — ^probably  it  was  intended  for 
herself. 

The  boy's  face  met  hers,  possibly  at  an  opposite  door. 

"My  son,  what  have  you  been  doing  with  the  sand? " 

"Painting,  mother." 

"  But  what  led  you  to  paint  in  that  way? " 

"  Faith's  pictures  on  the  wall.  I  had  to  paint.  I 
must.  I  will  be  a  painter  if  I  grow  up.  The  things 
that  father  does  will  not  live  unless  they  are  painted. 
Pictures  make  the  past  now — they  hold  the  past;  they 
make  it  live." 

"  My  little  boy  sees  the  value  of  the  art  like  a  phi- 
losopher. You  and  Faith  have  a  gift  that  I  little  ex- 
pected. I  have  nursed  that  little  head  of  yours  many 
an  hour;  there  may  be  pictures  in  it — who  knows? " 

"  But  father  thinks  that  painting  is  girlish.  How  can 
I  get  him  to  let  me  paint? " 

"  You  may  be  able  to  paint  so  well,  that  he  will  be 
proud  of  your  art." 

The  next  day  the  sand  took  new  form;  another  picture 
filled  the  floor,  and  so  day  by  day  new  pictures  came  to 
delight  the  good  mother's  heart. 

The  Governor  saw  them. 


THE  FIRST  OP  PATRIOTS  AT  HOME  33 

"  There  is  a  gift  in  them,"  said  he.  "  It  is  all  right 
for  a  little  shaver  like  him.  Boys  will  have  to  wield 
something  stronger  than  the  brush  in  the  new  age  that  is 
upon  us.     But  we  must  not  crush  any  gift  of  God." 

He  turned  away. 

His  family  loved  to  be  near  him,  and  he  told  them 
wonderful  tales  from  the  Hebrew  Scriptures. 

Queer  tales  of  early  times  in  the  colonies  he  related 
to  them,  too;  stories  that  tended  to  correct  false  views 
of  life  and  character.  Suppose  we  spend  an  hour  with 
the  good  Governor  in  his  own  home. 

It  was  early  evening;  snow  was  falling  on  the  green 
boughs  of  the  cedars  of  Lebanon.  A  great  fireplace 
blazed  before  the  sitting-room  table,  on  which  were  the 
Bible  and  books. 

On  one  side  of  the  fireplace  hung  quartered  apples 
drying;  on  the  other  a  rennet  and  red  peppers,  and  on 
the  mantelpiece  were  shells  from  the  Indies,  candlesticks, 
and  pewter  dishes. 

The  room  became  silent.  The  Governor's  thoughts 
were  far  away,  planning,  planning,  almost  always  plan- 
ning. 

The  stillness  became  lonesome.  Then  little  John,  the 
painter  in  the  sand,  ventured  to  ask  his  mother  for  a  story, 
and  she  said: 

"I  am  narrowing  now  in  ray  knitting;  ask  your 
father,  he  is  wool-gathering;  call  him  home." 

Little  John  touched  his  father  on  the  arm. 

"It  is  a  story  that  you  would  have,"  said  the  Gov- 


34  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

ernor.  "  I  am  thinking  all  by  myself  on  a  case  tliat  comes 
up  before  me  to-morrow,  of  a  young  man  who  has  broken 
the  law,  but  did  not  know  that  there  was  any  such  law 
to  break.     He  had  just  come  in  from  sea. 

"  Now,  what  would  you  do  in  such  a  case  as  that, 
Johnny?  I  am  thinking  how  to  be  merciful  to  the  man 
and  just  to  others." 

"  I  would  do  what  mother  would  do — mother,  what 
would  you  do  in  a  case  like  that?" 

"I  do  not  know;  there  may  be  things  to  be  consid- 
ered. I  would  follow  my  heart;  if  it  would  not  endanger 
others." 

"  Father,  what  will  you  do  ?  Animals  break  laws 
about  which  they  do  not  know.     I  pity  them." 

"  Well  said,  John,"  said  the  Governor. 

He  added,  beating  on  the  back  of  his  chair: 

"  I  may  have  to  follow  my  heart;  but  I  will  tell  you 
a  story  of  an  old  Connecticut  judge  who  followed  his 
heart,  and  something  unexpected  happened." 

The  Governor  dropped  his  stately  tone,  and  used  the 
language  of  home.     That  was  a  charm,  the  home  tone. 

"  It  was  at  the  time  of  the  blue-laws,"  he  said. 
"  Those  laws  in  one  part  of  the  State  were  so  strict  as  to 
forbid  the  making  of  mince  pies  at  Christmas-time. 

"  One  of  these  laws  forbid  a  man  to  kiss  his  wife  in 
public  on  Sunday." 

The  Governor  seldom  used  story-book  language.  He 
was  going  to  do  so  now,  and  it  would  make  the  very  fire 
seem  friendly. 


THE  FIRST  OF  PATRIOTS  AT  HOME  35 

"  Wandering  Rufus  was  a  merry  lad.  He  married  a 
young  wife,  a  very  handsome  girl,  and  he  loved  her. 
Soon  after  his  marriage  he  went  to  sea,  and  it  was  after 
he  went  to  sea  that  the  law  was  enacted  against  the  Sun- 
day kissing.  The  lawmakers  little  thought  of  the  men 
at  sea. 

"  His  wife  looked  out  for  him  to  come  back,  as  a  good 
wife  should.  She  pressed  her  nose  against  the  pane. 
She  dreamed  and  dreamed  of  how  happy  she  should  be 
when  he  should  come  leaping  up  from  the  wharf  to 
greet  her. 

"  Three  years  passed,  for  he  was  a  whaler  as  well  as 
a  sailor. 

"  Three  years ! 

"  One  day  there  was  heard  a  boom  at  sea — boom  off 
IsTew  Haven.  The  ship  was  coming  in,  and  it  was 
Sunday. 

"  The  young  wife  dressed  herself  in  her  best  gown, 
and  she  never  looked  so  pretty  before.  Her  cheeks  glowed 
like  roses  in  dew-time. 

"  She  hurried  down  toward  the  wharf  to  meet  him, 
just  as  the  bells  were  ringing  and  the  people  were  all 
going  to  meeting. 

"  He  came  up  the  highway  to  greet  her,  leaping — not 
a  becoming  thing,  I  will  allow.  And  he  rushed  into  her 
arms,  and  gave  her  smack  after  smack,  and  her  bonnet 
fell  off,  and  the  people  stopped  and  wondered.  The  mag- 
istrate wondered,  too. 

"  There  was  a  man  in  the  seaport  who  was  like  Mr. 
Legality  in  the  Pilgrim's  Progress.     The  next  day  he  had 


36  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

the  young  sailor  arrested  for  unbecoming  conduct  on  tlie 
street  on  Sunday,  and  I  mind  me  that  his  conduct  was 
not  altogether  becoming. 

"  The  judge  came  into  court,  and  read  the  law,  and 
asked : 

"'Kufus,  my  sailor  boy,  what  have  you  to  plead?' 

" '  I  did  not  know  that  there  was  any  such  law,  your 
Honor;  else  I  would  have  obeyed  it.' 

"  You  may  see  that  he  had  a  true  heart,  like  a  robin 
on  a  cherry  bough. 

" '  I  must  condemn  you  to  have  thirty  lashes  at  the 
whipping-post,'  said  the  judge — ''No,  twenty  lashes — ^no, 
considering  all  the  points  of  the  case,  ten;  or  five  will  do. 
Five  lashes  at  the  whipping-post.  This  is  the  lightest 
sentence  that  I  ever  imposed.  But  he  did  not  know  the 
law;  and  he  was  a  married  man,  and  he  had  not  seen  his 
wife  for  nearly  three  years;  I  must  be  merciful  in  this 
particular  case,  and  I  will  not  say  in  this  same  case  how 
hard  the  lashes  shall  be  laid  on.' 

"  So  the  young  sailor  was  whipped,  and  Mr.  Legality 
said  that  five  lashes  would  not  have  scampered  a  cat. 

"  Rufus,  the  wanderer,  prepared  to  go  whaling  again. 

"  Now,  the  captain  of  the  ship  had  caused  a  chalk- 
mark  to  be  drawn  across  the  deck  of  the  ship,  and  had 
made  a  ship  law  that  if  any  one  but  an  officer  of  the  ship 
should  cross  the  mark,  the  person  violating  the  law  should 
be  whipped  with  a  cat-o'-nine-tails. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  our  young  sailor  should  have 
had  a  revengeful  spirit,  but  he  seems  to  have  shown  a 
disposition  not  altogether  benevolent.     He  invited  Mr. 


THE  FIRST  OP  PATRIOTS  AT  HOME  37 

Legality  to  go  on  board  the  ship  with  him,  just  as  the  ship 
was  about  to  sail.  Mr.  Legality  to  atone  for  his  want  of 
charity  went,  and  he  had  hardly  got  on  board  before  he 
stepped  over  the  chalk-line. 

"'Halt,  halt! '  said  Kufus.  *We  have  a  law  that  if 
any  one  steps  over  the  chalk-line  he  must  be  whipped.' 

"  '  But  I  did  not  know  that  there  was  any  such  a  law,' 
said  Mr.  Legality. 

"  *  But  it  is  the  law,'  said  Wandering  Rufus. 

" '  But  how  could  I  have  known? '  asked  Mr.  Legality. 

" '  How  could  I  have  known  that  there  was  a  law  that 
a  man  must  not  kiss  his  wife  on  the  street  on  Sunday? ' 
asked  Rufus. 

" '  I  see,  I  see ;  but  don't  let  me  be  whipped  with  the 
cat-o'-nine-tails.' 

"  *  That  I  will  not,  for  I  am  a  hearty  sailor.  If  any 
one  is  whipped  it  shall  be  me.  I  wanted  to  show  you 
how  the  human  heart  feels.' 

"  Mr.  Legality  left  the  ship  as  fast  as  his  legs  would 
carry  him,  and  somehow  that  story  sometimes  rises  before 
me  like  a  parable.  I  think  I  shall  follow  my  heart  with 
this  new  case  that  comes  off  to-morrow." 

"  Do,  do,"  said  the  children,  all  five ;  and  the  mother, 
lovely  Faith  Trumbull,  said,  "  Yes,  Jonathan,  do." 

"  And  now,"  said  the  Governor,  "  let  us  read  to- 
gether the  most  beautiful  chapter,  as  I  mind,  in  all  the 
Epistles." 

The  snow  fell  gently  without;  the  fire  cracked,  and 
they  read  together  the  chapter  containing  "  Charity  suffer- 
eth  long,  and  is  kind." 


38  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"  Beareth  all  things,  endureth  all  things,"  read  little 
John.     Then  tears  filled  his  eyes,  and  he  said: 

"  Father,  I  love  you." 

But  there  was  another  side  to  the  love  and  loyalty 
of  this  sheltered  town  in  the  cedars.  There  were  Tories 
here,  and  they  did  not  like  the  patriarchal  Governor.  You 
must  meet  some  of  them,  if  it  does  change  the  atmosphere 
of  the  narrative. 

It  has  been  said  that  no  dispute  could  ever  stand 
before  Brother  Jonathan;  it  would  melt  away  like  snow 
on  an  April  day  when  he  lifted  his  benignant  eyes  and 
put  the  finger  of  one  hand  on  the  other,  and  said,  "  Let 
me  make  it  clear  to  you." 

Queer  old  Samuel  Peters,  the  Episcopal  agent,  or 
missionary  in  the  colony,  made  so  much  fun  of  the  good 
people  in  his  History  of  Connecticut,  and  so  led  England 
and  America  to  laugh  by  his  marvelous  anecdotes  and 
description  of  the  blue-laws,  that  the  really  thrifty  and 
heroic  character  of  these  people  has  been  misjudged. 

A  wonderful  family  had  Brother  Jonathan.  His 
children  who  lived  to  become  of  age  became  famous, 
and  they  were  all  remarkable  as  children.  Jonathan 
Trumbull,  Jr.,  could  read  Virgil  at  five,  and  had  read 
Homer  at  twelve,  and  could  talk  with  his  father  in  Latin 
and  Greek,  and  discuss  Horace  and  Juvenal  when  a  boy. 
He,  as  we  have  said,  became  a  great  painter,  and  com- 
menced by  drawing  pictures  in  the  sand  which  was 
sprinkled  on  his  father's  floor.  They  used  "  herring-bone  " 
to  tidy  rooms  in  those  days,  spare  rooms,  by  dusting  clean 
sand  on  the  floor,  in  a  wavy  way,  leaving  the  floor  in 


THE  FIRST  OP  PATRIOTS  AT  HOME  39 

the  angles  of  a  herring-bone.  We  do  not  know  that  it 
was  in  such  herring-boning  sand  that  young  Trumbull  be- 
gan to  draw  pictures,  but  it  may  have  been  so. 

We  have  visited  the  rooms  in  the  old  perpendicular 
house  where  he  began  to  draw.  His  good  father  did  not 
approve  of  his  purpose  to  become  a  painter,  but  he 
thought  that  genius  should  be  allowed  to  follow  its  own 
course.  A  man  is  never  contented  or  satisfied  outside 
of  his  natural  gifts  and  haunting  inclinations.  So  the 
battles  into  which  his  father's  spirit  entered,  John  made 
immortal  by  painting,  and  his  work  may  be  seen  not  only 
in  the  rotunda  of  the  Capitol  at  Washington,  but  in  the 
"  Trumbull  Collection  "  at  Yale  College. 

Young  Trumbull  was  led  to  continue  to  paint  by  his 
sisters  Faith  and  Mary,  who  went  to  Boston  to  school. 
This  was  the  Copley  age  of  art  in  Boston.  You  may  see 
Copley's  pictures  at  the  Art  Museum,  Boston,  and  among 
them  the  almost  living  portrait  of  Samuel  Adams.  When 
these  girls  returned  from  visits  to  Boston,  Mary  began  to 
paint  inspiring  pictures  and  to  adorn  the  rooms  with  them. 

She  and  her  brother  studied  the  lives  and  works  of  the 
old  masters.  How?  We  do  not  know,  but  genius  makes 
a  way. 

A  thrifty  farmer  and  merchant  was  Col.  Jonathan 
Trumbull  in  his  young  days.  You  laugh  at  these  old- 
fashioned  men,  but  look  at  what  this  man,  who  could  dis- 
cuss Homer  and  Horace  with  his  boys,  and  the  arts  of 
Greece  with  his  girls,  accomplished  through  the  good  judg- 
ment and  private  thrift  in  his  early  life.  Says  his  prin- 
cipal biographer,  G.  W.  Stuart,  of  the  fine  young  farmer, 
4 


40  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

who  had  ships  on  the  sea,  and  was  beginning  to  turn  from 
a  farmer  to  a  notable  merchant : 

"  So  the  first  years  of  Trumbull's  life  as  a  merchant 
passed  in  successful  commerce  abroad,  in  profitable  trade 
at  home,  and  with  high  reputation  in  all  his  contacts, 
negotiations,  and  adventures.  And  '  his  corn  and  riches 
did  increase.'  A  house  and  home-estate  worth  over  four 
thousand  pounds;  furniture,  and  a  library,  worth  six 
hundred  pounds;  a  valuable  store  adjacent  to  the  dwell- 
ing; a  store,  wharf,  and  land  at  East  Haddam;  a  lot  and 
warehouse  at  Chelsea  in  N^orwich;  a  valuable  grist-mill 
near  his  family  seat  at  Lebanon ;  '  a  large,  convenient 
malt-house;  '  several  productive  farms  in  his  neighbor- 
hood, carefully  tilled,  and  beautifully  spotted  with  rich 
acres  of  woodland;  extensive  ownership,  too,  in  the  'Five- 
mile  Propriety,'  as  it  was  called,  in  Lebanon,  in  whose 
management  as  committeeman,  and  representative  at 
courts,  and  moderator  at  meetings  of  owners,  Trumbull 
had  much  to  do;  a  stock  of  domestic  animals  worth  a 
hundred  and  thirty  pounds — these  possessions,  together 
with  a  well-secured  indebtedness  to  himself,  in  bonds,  and 
notes,  and  mortgages,  resulting  from  his  mercantile  trans- 
actions, of  about  eight  thousand  pounds,  rewarded,  at  the 
close  of  the  year  1763,  the  toil  of  Trumbull  in  the  field 
of  trade  and  commerce.  In  all  it  was  a  property  of  not 
less  than  eighteen  thousand  pounds — truly  a  large  one  for 
the  day — but  one  destined,  by  reverses  in  trade  which  the 
times  subsequently  rendered  inevitable,  and  by  the  patri- 
otic generosity  of  its  owner  during  the  great  Revolu- 
tionary struggle,  to  slip,  in  large  part,  from  his  grasp." 


THE  FIRST  OF  PATRIOTS  AT  HOME  41 

Here  is  a  picture  of  thrifty  life  in  a  country  village 
estate  in  old  New  England  days. 

He  preached  at  first,  then  became  a  judge,  and  he 
"  doctored." 

They  were  queer  people  who  doctored  then,  with  wig 
and  gig.  Brother  Jonathan  doctored  the  poor.  He  doc- 
tored out  of  his  goodly  instincts  more  than  from  a  medi- 
cal code,  though  he  could  administer  prescriptions  from 
Latin  that  it  was  deemed  presumptuous  for  the  patient 
to  inquire  about.  !Now  people  know  what  medicine  they 
take,  but  it  was  deemed  audacious  then  to  ask  any  ques- 
tions about  Latin  prescriptions,  or  to  seek  to  penetrate 
such  an  awful  mystery  as  was  contained  in  the  "  Ferro- 
cesquicianurit  of  the  Cynide  of  Potassium,"  or  to  find 
out  that  a  ranunculus  bulbosus  was  only  a  buttercup. 

Among  the  good  old  tavern  tales  of  such  old-time 
doctors  was  one  of  a  notional  old  woman,  who  used  to 
send  for  the  doctor  as  often  as  she  saw  any  one  passing 
who  was  going  the  doctor's  way.  Once  when  there  was 
coming  on  one  of  these  awful  March  snow-storms  that 
buried  up  houses,  she  saw  a  teamster  hurrying  against  the 
pitiless  snow  toward  the  town  where  the  doctor's  office  was. 

"  Hay,  hay !  "  said  she  to  the  half-blinded  man. 
"  Whoa,  stop !  Send  the  doctor  to  me — it  is  going  to  be 
a  desperate  case." 

The  doctor  came  to  visit  his  patient,  and  found  her 
getting  a  bountiful  meal. 

"  The  dragon !  "  said  he.  "  Hobgoblins  and  thunder, 
what  did  you  make  me  come  out  here  for  in  all  this  dread- 
ful storm?" 


42  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"  Oh,  pardon,  doctor,"  said  she,  "  it  was  such  a  good 
chance  to  send." 

In  ill  temper,  the  country  doctor  faced  the  storm 
again. 

There  was  both  an  academy  and  an  Indian  school  in 
the  town,  and  all  the  children  loved  Brother  Jonathan. 

The  children  of  Boston  used  to  follow  Sam  Adams  in 
the  street  in  the  latter's  benign  old  age,  and  the  white 
children  and  red  tumbled  over  their  dogs  to  meet  Brother 
Jonathan,  when  he  appeared  in  his  three-cornered  hat, 
ruffles  and  knee-breeches,  and  all,  in  the  snug  village 
green  around  which  the  orioles  sung  in  the  great  trees. 

He  had  some  kind  word  for  them  all.  When  his  face 
lighted  up,  all  was  happiness. 

Among  his  neighbors  was  William  Williams,  a  signer 
of  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  and  a  man  of  beauti- 
ful soul. 

The  old  church  gleamed  in  air  over  the  green.  On 
the  country  roads  they  held  meetings  in  smaller  churches 
and  in  schoolhouses. 

A  queer  story  is  told  of  one  of  these  churches  at  the 
time  of  foot-stoves;  how  a  good  woman  took  a  foot-stove 
to  church  and  hid  it  under  her  cloak.  The  stove  smoked, 
and  the  warm  smoke  rose  up  under  her  cloak,  which  was 
spread  around  her  like  a  tent,  and  caused  her  to  go  to 
sleep.  As  she  bent  over  the  smoke  came  out  of  her  cloak 
at  the  back  of  her  neck  and  ascended  into  the  sunlight  of 
a  window.  Now  smoke  is  likely  to  form  a  circle  as  it 
ascends,  and  the  good  people,  who  did  not  know  of  the 
foot-stove,  thought  that  they  saw  a  crown  of  glory  hang- 


THE  FIRST  OF  PATRIOTS  AT  HOME  43 

ing  over  her  head,  and  that  a  miracle  was  being  per- 
formed. 

Brother  Jonathan  and  his  good  wife  and  children 
were  always  in  their  pew  on  Sunday.  Probably  there 
was  a  sounding-board  in  the  primitive  church  and  an  hour- 
glass. Possibly,  a  tithing  man  went  about  with  a  feather 
to  tickle  sleepy  old  women  on  the  nose,  who  lost  con- 
sciousness between  the  Tthlys  and  the  lOthlys,  and  so 
made  them  jump  and  say,  "  O  Lud,  massy  sakes  alive !  " 
or  something  equally  surprising  and  improper. 


CHAPTER   IV 

"  OUT    YOU    GO  " 

Old  Peter  Wetmore,  of  Lebanon,  was  suspected  of 
being  a  Tory,  but  he  kept  shut  lips.  "  Don't  open  the  doors 
of  your  soul,"  he  used  to  say,  "  and  people  will  never  know 
who  you  are.  They  can't  imprison  your  soul  without  the 
body,  nor  the  body  unless  the  soul  opens  its  gates,"  by 
which  he  meant  the  lips.  "  What  I  say  is  nothing  to 
nobody.     I  chop  wood!  " 

Morose,  silent,  grunting,  if  he  spoke  at  all,  he  lived 
in  a  mossy,  gable-roofed  house,  with  a  huge  woodpile 
before  his  door. 

There  was  a  great  oak  forest  on  rising  ground  above 
him.  Below  him  was  a  cedar  swamp,  with  a  village  of 
crows  and  crow-blackbirds,  which  all  shouted  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  told  each  other  that  the  sun  was  rising. 

He  was  in  his  heart  true  to  the  King.  When  the 
patriots  of  Lebanon  came  to  him  to  talk  politics  after 
the  Lexington  alarm,  he  simply  said,  "  I  chop  wood." 

Chop  wood  he  did.    His  woodpile  in  front  of  his  house 

was  almost  as  high  as  his  house  itself.     But  he  chopped 

on,  and  all  through  the  winter  his  ax  flew.    And  he  split 

wood,  hickory  wood,  with  a  warlike  expression  on  his 

44 


«OUT  YOU  GO"  45 

face,  as  his  ax  came  down.  He  had  one  relative — a 
nephew,  Peter,  whom  he  taught  to  "  fly  around  "  and  to 
"  pick  up  his  heels  "  in  such  a  nervous  way  that  people 
ceased  to  call  him  Peter  Wetmore,  but  named  him  Peter 
Nimble.  The  boy  was  so  abused  by  his  uncle  that  he 
wore  a  scared  look. 

Lebanon  was  becoming  one  of  the  most  patriotic  towns 
in  America.  At  one  time  during  the  Revolutionary  War 
there  were  five  hundred  men  in  the  public  services.  The 
people  were  intolerant  of  a  Tory,  and  old  Peter  Wetmore, 
who  chopped  wood,  was  a  suspect. 

A  different  heart  had  young  Peter,  the  orphan  boy, 
who  was  for  a  time  compelled  to  live  with  him  or  to 
become  roofless. 

The  Lexington  alarm  thrilled  him,  as  he  heard  the 
news  on  Lebanon  green. 

He  caught  the  spirit  of  the  people,  and  as  for  Gov- 
ernor Trumbull,  he  thought  he  was  the  "  Lord  "  or  almost 
a  divinity.  The  Governor  probably  used  to  give  him 
rides  when  he  met  him  in  the  way.  The  Governor  did 
not  "  whip  behind." 

When  Peter  had  heard  the  news  of  the  Lexington 
alarm,  he  said: 

"  I  must  fly  home  now  and  tell  uncle  that." 

It  was  a  long  way  from  the  green  to  the  cabin  that 
Peter  called  "  home." 

He  hurried  home  and  lifted  the  latch,  and  met  his 
uncle,  who  was  scowling. 

"  What  has  happened  now? "  said  the  latter,  seeing 
Peter  had  been  running. 


46  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"  A  shot  has  been  fired  on  the  green." 

"  What,  on  Lebanon  green? "  gasped  the  old  man  in 
alarm. 

"  1^0,  on  Lexington  green." 

"  That  doesn't  matter.  Lexington  green  is  so  far  off. 
Who  fired  the  shot?    The  regulars,"  he  added. 

"  The  young  men  at  Lebanon  are  all  enlisting.  I 
wish  I  were  old  enough  to  go !  " 

"For  what?" 

"  To  fight  the  British." 

"  What,  the  King?  " 

"Yes." 

"  The  King?     Do  I  hear  my  ears,  boy?  " 

"Uncle?" 

"  I  am  going  to  pull  the  latch-string,  and  out  you  go. 
Don't  talk  back.  Do  you  hear?  Out  you  go,  and  you 
may  never  be  able  to  tell  all  you  lose." 

The  boy  half  comprehended  the  hint,  for  he  believed 
that  his  uncle  had  money  stored  in  the  cellar,  or  in  some 
secret  place  near  the  house.  As  the  latter  would  never 
let  any  one  but  himself  go  to  the  soap-barrel  in  the  cellar, 
the  boy  suspected  the  treasure  might  be  there,  or  in  the 
ash-flue  in  the  chimney. 

Young  Peter  turned  white. 

Old  Peter  tugged  his  rheumatic  body  to  the  door, 
and  turned. 

"  I  am  going  to  pull  the  string,  Peter." 

To  the  boy  the  words  sounded  like  a  hangman's 
summons. 

"  Where  shall  I  go,  uncle?  " 


"OUT  YOU  GO"  47 

"  That  is  for  you  to  saj.  I've  got  store  enough,  boy. 
Somebody  will  bury  me  if  I  die.  But  the  King,  my 
King,  he  who  goes  against  the  King  goes  against  me. 
Who  do  you  go  for? " 

"  The  people." 

"  The  people !  "  shrieked  the  old  man.  "  Then  out 
you  go;  out! " 

"  There  is  one  house,  uncle,  whose  doors  are  open  to 
all  people  who  have  no  roof." 

"Which  one  is  that — the  poorhouse?" 

"  No,  the  Governor's." 

"  That  makes  me  mad — mad !  I  hate  the  Governor, 
and  his'n  and  all!     I  can  live  alone!  " 

He  pulled  the  latch-string  and  cried,  in  trumpet  tone: 

"Out!" 

Peter  went  out  into  the  open  April  air,  into  the 
wood.  He  went  to  the  Governor's,  and  told  him  all, 
but  in  a  way  to  shield  the  old  man. 

"He  is  a  little  touched  in  mind,"  said  Peter,  chari- 
tably. 

"  You  shall  have  a  home  with  me,  or  mine,"  said  the 
Governor.  "  My  son-in-law  over  the  way  will  employ 
you  as  a  shepherd.  If  he  doesn't,  others  will.  And  you 
can  use  the  hills  for  a  lookout,  while  you  herd  sheep. 
Dennis  will  find  work  for  you  to  do  at  times  in  his  service. 
Boy,  perilous  times  are  coming,  and  you  have  a  true 
heart.  I  know  your  heart;  I  can  see  it — I  know  your 
thoughts,  and  people  who  sow  true  thoughts,  reap  true 
harvests.  Don't  be  down-hearted ;  you  own  the  stars.  I 
will  cover  you."     He  lifted  his  hand  over  him. 


48  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"  You  won't  harm  uncle  for  what  I  have  said? " 

"No,  no,  I  will  not  harm  the  old  man  for  what  you 
have  said  now.  It  is  better  to  change  the  heart  of  a  man 
and  make  him  your  friend  than  to  seek  to  have  revenge 
on  him.  He  will  turn  to  you  some  day,  and  perhaps  he 
will  leave  you  his  gold,  for  they  say  that  he  has  gold 
stored  away  somewhere.  You  have  a  heart  of  charity — 
I  can  see — as  well  as  of  truth.  Charity  goes  with  honor. 
As  long  as  you  do  right,  nothing  can  happen  to  you  that 
you  can  not  glorify." 

Peter  was  made  acquainted  with  Dennis  by  the  Gov- 
ernor, who  was  a  father  to  all  friendless  children,  and  he 
was  employed  as  a  shepherd  boy,  on  the  hills. 

The  hills  were  lookouts  now. 

People  went  to  the  old  man  to  reprove  him  for  his 
treatment  of  his  nephew,  but  he  would  only  say: 

"  I  am  cutting  wood !  " 

While  he  lived  with  his  Tory  uncle,  Peter  used  to  hear 
strange  things  at  night. 

The  old  man  would  get  up,  bar  all  the  doors,  light  the 
bayberry  candle,  and  bring  something  like  a  leather  bag 
to  his  table. 

Then  he  would  talk  to  himself  strangely. 

"  One,"  he  would  say,  putting  down  something  that 
rang  hard  on  the  table. 

"  One,  if  he  stays  with  me,  and  is  true  to  the  King. 

«  Two." 

There  would  follow  a  metallic  sound. 

"  Two,  if  he  stays  with  me,  and  is  loyal  to  the  King. 

"  Three,  if  he  stays  and  is  loyal. 


"OUT  YOU  GO"  49 

"Four.  All  for  him  when  I  go  out,  if  only  lie  is 
true." 

Then  the  bag  would  jingle.  Then  would  follow  a 
rattling  sound. 

"  Five,  six,  seven,  eight,"  and  so  on,  adding  up  to  a 
hundred.    He  seemed  to  be  counting  coin. 

Then  there  would  be  a  sound  of  sweeping  hands. 
Was  he  gathering  up  coin — gold  coin?  Presently  there 
would  be  sounds  of  chubby  feet,  and  a  chest  would  seem 
to  open,  and  the  lid  to  close,  and  to  be  bolted. 

"  All,  all  for  him,"  the  old  man  would  say,  "  if  he  only 
stays  with  me  and  is  loyal  to  the  King,  whose  arms  are 
like  those  of  the  lion  and  the  unicorn." 

Then  he  would  lie  down,  saying,  "  All  for  him,"  and 
the  house  would  become  still  in  the  still  world  of  the 
cedars. 

The  boy  wondered  if  "  him  "  were  the  King,  or  if  it 
were  he,  or  some  unknown  relative,  or  friend.  He  could 
hardly  doubt  that  the  old  man  had  treasure,  and  counted  it 
at  night,  either  for  the  King,  or  for  himself. 

So  now,  often  when  the  great  moon  shone  on  the 
cedars,  he  lay  awake  and  wondered  what  the  old  man 
meant.     Had  he  missed  a  fortune  by  his  patriotic  feeling? 

The  words,  "if  he  stays  with  me  and  is  loyal  to  the 
King,"  made  him  think  that  the  woodchopper  meant  him- 
self, or  some  unknown  relative. 

But  "  if  he  stays  with  me "  suggested  himself  so 
strongly,  that  he  often  asked  himself,  if  the  hard  old  man 
really  loved  him  and  was  carrying  out  some  vision  for  his 
welfare  in  his  silent  heart. 


50  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

Peter  used  to  meet  Brother  Jonathan  as  the  latter 
crossed  the  green,  which  he  did  almost  daily.  The  Gov- 
ernor was  usually  so  absorbed  in  thought  that  he  did 
not  seem  to  see  the  shining  sun,  or  to  hear  the  birds  sing- 
ing; he  lived  in  the  cause. 

But  when  he  met  Peter  he  would  stretch  out  his  hand 
in  the  Quaker  manner,  and  look  pleasant.  To  see  the 
old  man's  face  light  up  was  a  joy  to  the  susceptible  boy; 
it  made  him  so  happy  as  to  make  him  alert  the  rest  of 
the  day. 

One  day  as  the  two  were  crossing  the  green,  in  near 
ways,  the  Governor  suddenly  said: 

"Let  us  consider  the  matter: 

"  My  young  man,  for  so  you  are  before  your  time,  I 
must  have  a  clerk  in  my  store,  and  he  must  be  no  common 
clerk;  he  must  be  one  that  I  can  trust,  for  he  must  do 
more  than  sell  goods  and  barter;  he  must  look  out  for 
me,  when  I  am  in  the  back  room,  the  war  office;  and  he 
must  be  the  only  one  to  enter  the  war-office  room  when 
the  council  is  in  session.  The  council  has  met  more  than 
three  hundred  times  now.  And,  Peter,  Peter  of  the  hills, 
shepherd-boy,  night-watch — my  heart  turns  to  you.  You 
must  be  my  clerk — that  is,  to  the  people ;  meet  customers, 
barter,  trade,  sell;  but  to  me,  you  must  be  the  sentinel  of 
the  door  of  the  war  office.  Peter,  I  can  see  your  soul; 
you  will  be  true  to  me.  I  am  an  old  man;  don't  say  it, 
but  I  forget,  when  I  have  so  many  things  to  weigh  me 
down.  You  shall  stand  between  the  store  and  the  war 
office,  at  the  counter,  and  I  will  give  you  the  secret  keys, 
and  if  any  one  must  see  me,  you  must  see  about  the  matter. 


^         tc 


"OUT  YOU  GO"  61 

Peter,  the  Council  of  Safety  is  a  power  behind  the  des- 
tiny of  this  nation.  It  is  revealed  to  me  so.  Will  you 
come  ? " 

"  Yes,  yes.  Governor.  I  live  in  my  thoughts  for  you. 
Yes,  yes,  and  I  will  be  as  faithful  as  I  can." 

"  Of  course  you  will.  Come  right  now.  You  may 
sleep  in  the  store  at  night.  The  drovers  will  tell  you 
stories  on  the  barrels.  I  can  trust  you  for  everything. 
So  I  dismiss  myself  now — ^you  are  myself.  Here  is  the 
secret  key.  Don't  feel  hurt  if  I  do  not  speak  to  you 
much  when  you  see  me.  I  live  for  the  future,  and  must 
think,  think,  think." 

The  Governor  went  into  the  tavern,  and  Peter,  with 
the  secret  key,  went  to  the  store.  The  Governor  had 
considered  the  matter.  He  used  the  word  consider 
often. 

The  Governor  soon  began  to  send  almost  all  people 
who  came  to  see  him,  except  the  members  of  the  council, 
to  Peter.  "  Go  to  my  clerk,"  he  would  say,  "  he  will  do 
the  best  he  can  for  you." 

Peter  rose  in  public  favor.  Two  plus  two  in  him 
made  five,  as  it  does  in  all  growing  people.  He  was  more 
than  a  clerk.     He  was  keen,  hearty,  true. 

Peter  received  news  from  couriers  for  years.  What 
news  was  reported  there — The  battle  of  Long  Island,  the 
operations  near  ITew  York,  Trenton,  Princeton,  Morris- 
town,  Burgoyne's  campaign,  Brandywine,  Germantown, 
Monmouth,  the  southern  campaign,  the  exploits  of  Green, 
and  hundreds,  perhaps  thousands,  of  incidents  of  the  vary- 
ing fortunes  of  the  war  I 


62  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

The  couriers,  despatchmen,  the  wagoners,  the  drovers, 
came  to  the  war  office  and  went.     They  multiplied. 

But  the  activity  diminished  as  the  army  moved  South. 

People  gathered  in  the  front  store  in  the  evenings  to 
hear  the  news,  and  often  to  wait  for  the  news.  They  saw 
the  members  of  the  Council  of  Safety  come  and  go;  and 
while  the  things  that  lay  like  weights  in  the  balance  of 
the  nation  Avere  there  discussed,  the  men  told  tales  on  the 
barrels  that  had  come  from  the  West  Indies,  or  on  the 
meal  chests  and  bins  of  vegetables.  What  queer  tales 
they  were! 

Let  us  spend  an  evening  at  the  store,  and  listen  to  one 
of  the  old  Connecticut  folk  tales. 

It  is  a  winter  night.  The  ice  glares  without  in  the 
moon,  on  the  ponds  and  cedars.  There  is  an  open  fire 
in  the  store;  in  the  window  are  candy-jars;  over  the 
counter  are  candles  on  rods,  and  on  the  counter  are  snuff- 
jars  and  tobacco. 

One  of  the  old-time  natural  story-tellers  sits  on  a  rice- 
barrel;  he  is  a  drover  and  stops  at  wayside  inns,  and 
knows  the  tales  of  the  inns,  and  especially  the  ghost- 
stories.  Such  stories  did  not  frighten  Peter  as  they  did 
Dennis,  who  was  new  to  the  country.  Peter  had  become 
hardened  to  them. 

Let  us  give  you  one  of  these  peculiar  old  store  stories 
that  was  told  on  red  settles,  and  that  is  like  those  which 
passed  from  settle  to  settle  throughout  the  colony.  The 
speaker  is  a  "  grandfather." 


"OUT  YOU  GO*  53 

THE  TREASURE  DIGGER  OP  CAPE  ANN 

"  Oh,  boys,  let  me  smoke  my  pipe  in  peace.  How 
the  moon  shines  on  the  snow,  far,  far  away,  down  the 
seal  That  makes  me  think  of  Captain  Kidd.  Ah,  he 
was  a  hard  man,  that  same  Captain  Kidd,  and  he  had  a 
hard,  hard  heart,  if  he  was  the  son  of  a  Scotch  preacher." 

Here  the  grandfather  paused  and  shook  his  head. 

The  pause  made  an  atmosphere.  The  natural  story- 
teller lowered  his  voice,  and  the  earth  seemed  to  stand 
still  as  he  said: 

"  My  name  was  Captain  Kidd, 
As  I  sailed,  as  I  sailed, 
My  name  was  Captain  Kidd, 
As  I  sailed. 

"  My  name  was  Captain  Kidd, 
And  wickedly  I  did, 
God's  laws  I  did  forbid, 
As  I  sailed. 

"  I  murdered  William  Moore, 
As  I  sailed,  as  I  sailed. 
And  left  him  in  his  gore. 
As  I  sailed. 

"  I'd  the  Bible  in  my  hand, 
'Twas  my  father's  last  command. 
But  I  sunk  it  in  the  sand. 
As  I  sailed." 

Here  the  old  man  paused,  pressed  down  the  tobacco 
in  his  pipe  with  a  quick  movement  of  his  forefinger,  and 
shook  his  head  twice,  leaving  the  impression  that  the  said 
Captain  Kidd  was  a  very  bad  sea-rover. 


54  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

The  room  was  still.  You  could  hear  the  sparks  shoot 
out;  the  corn-sheller  stopped  in  his  work.  The  old  maiden 
ladj  who  had  come  in  for  snuff  touched  the  pepper  pods : 
the  air  grew  peppery,  but  no  one  dared  to  sneeze. 

The  old  man  bobbed  up  his  head,  as  making  an  atmos- 
phere for  highly  wrought  work  of  the  imagination. 

"  There  was  once  an  old  couple,"  he  said,  "  who  lived 
down  on  Cape  Ann,  and  beyond  their  cottage  was  a  sandy 
dune,  and  on  the  dune  there  was  a  thatch-patch. 

"  They  had  grown  old  and  were  poor,  and  both  thought 
that  their  lot  had  been  hard,  and  the  old  woman  said  to 
the  old  man: 

" '  It  was  you  who  made  my  life  hard.  I  was  once 
a  girl,  and  what  I  might  have  been  no  one  knows.  Ah 
me,  ah  me! ' 

"  One  fall  morning  the  old  man  got  up,  and  frisked 
around  in  an  unusual  way. 

"  'What  makes  you  so  spry? '  asked  the  old  woman. 

" '  I  dreamed  a  dream  last  night  in  the  morning.' 

"  '  And  what  did  you  dream? ' 

" '  I  dreamed  that  Captain  Kidd  hid  his  treasure  in  an 
iron  box  under  the  thatch-patch,  right  in  the  middle  of 
the  patch,  where  the  shingle  goes  round.' 

"  '  Then  go  out  and  dig.  If  you  don't,  I  will.  Think 
what  we  might  be,  if  we  could  find  that  treasure.  We 
might  have  a  chariot  like  the  Pepperells,  and  fine  horses 
like  the  Boston  gentry,  the  Royalls,  and  the  Yassals.' 

" '  But  I  can  have  the  treasure  only  on  one  condition.' 

"'What  is  that?' 

" '  I  must  not  speak  a  word  while  I  am  digging.' 


"OUT  YOU  GO"  65 

"'That  would  be  hard  for  you.  Your  mouth  is 
always  open,  answering  your  old  wife  back.  I  could  dig 
without  a  word,  now.  Well,  well,  ah-a-me !  If  you  should 
dream  that  dream  a  second  time,  it  would  be  a  sign.' 

"  The  next  morning  the  old  man  got  up  spryer  than 
before.     He  clattered  the  shovel  and  the  tongs. 

" '  "Wife,  wife,  I  dreamed  the  same  dream  again  this 
morning.' 

"  *  Well,  if  you  were  to  dream  it  a  third  time,  it  would 
be  a  certainty — that  is,  if  you  could  dig  for  the  treasure 
without  speaking  a  word,  which  a  woman  of  my  sense 
and  wit  could  do.    Go  and  dig.' 

" '  But  the  voice  that  came  to  me  in  my  dream  told 
me  to  dig  at  midnight,  at  the  rising  of  the  moon,' 

"  That  night  as  the  great  moon  rose  over  the  waters 
of  Cape  Ann,  like  the  sun,  the  old  man  took  his  hoe  and 
hung  on  to  it  his  clam-basket,  and  put  both  of  them  over 
his  shoulder.  He  went  out  of  the  door  over  which  the 
dry  morning-glory  vines  were  rattling. 

" '  Now,  husband,  you  stop  and  listen  to  me,'  said  the 
old  wife.  *  Remember  all  the  time  that  you  are  not  to 
speak  a  word,  else  we  will  have  no  chariot  to  ride  past 
the  Pepperells,  nor  cantering  horses,  leaving  the  dust  all 
in  their  eyes.     Now,  what  are  you  to  do  ? ' 

" '  Never  to  speak  a  word.' 

"  *  Under  no  surprise.' 

" '  Not  if  the  sea  were  to  roar,  nor  the  sky  to  fall, 
nor  an  earthquake  to  uproot  the  hills,  nor  anything!  ' 

" '  Well,  you  may  go  now,  and  when  you  return  we 
will  be  richer  than  the  Governor  himself.  I  have  always 
5 


66  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

been  dreaming  that  such  a  day  might  come  to  us  as  a  sort 
of  reward  for  all  that  we  have  suffered.  But  they  say 
that  Captain  Kidd  tricks  those  who  dig  for  his  treasures. 
His  ghost  appears  to  them.  Never  you  fear  if  he  lays 
hands  on  you.' 

"  The  old  man  went  down  to  the  sea.  The  moon  rose 
so  fast  that  he  could  see  it  rising. 

"  The  old  couple  had  a  black  cat,  a  very  sleek,  fat 
little  animal,  which  lived  much  on  the  broken  clams  that 
the  clam-diggers  threw  out  of  their  piles  of  bivalves  at 
low  tides. 

"  When  she  saw  that  the  old  man  was  going  down 
to  the  sea,  she  started  after  him,  with  still  feet — still, 
still. 

"  The  old  man  measured  by  his  eye  the  center  of  the 
thatch-patch,  and  dug  into  the  tough  roots  of  the  thatch 
lustily.  He  became  exhausted  at  last  and  stopped  to 
rest,  looking  up  to  the  moon  that  glittered  in  the  autumn 
sea.  He  pushed  the  handle  of  the  hoe  down  into  the 
sand.  It  struck  something  that  sounded  like  iron.  He 
felt  sure  of  the  treasure. 

"  Suddenly  he  felt  something  rubbing  against  his  leg. 
It  was  like  a  hand.  '  Captain  Kidd  came  back  to  dis- 
concert me,'  thought  he.  '  But  I  will  never  speak  a 
word,'  thought  he  silently,  '  not  for  the  moon  herself,  nor 
for  a  thousand  moons.' 

"  The  supposed  hand  again  rubbed  against  his  leg — 
still,  still. 

"  He  turned  his  head  very  slowly  and  cautiously.  He 
saw  something  move.     It  was  like  a  gloved  hand.     '  Cap- 


"OUT  YOU  GO"  57 

tain  Kidd's,  sure,'  he  thought,  but  did  not  speak  a  word. 
The  thing  had  still  feet  or  hands. 

"  He  turned  his  head  a  little  more  and  was  humbled 
to  discover  that  it  was  not  Captain  Kidd's  hand  at  all,  but 
only  Tommy,  purring  and  purring — still,  still. 

"  His  pride  fell.  He  was  disconcerted.  No  one  can 
tell  what  he  may  do  when  he  finds  a  pirate's  ghost  to  be 
only  the  house  cat,  all  so  still. 

"  There  are  some  situations  that  take  away  all  one's 
senses,  little  things,  too. 

"He  inclined  his  head  more,  so  to  be  certain,  when 
the  truth  was  in  an  instant  revealed  to  him  beyond  a 
possibility  of  doubt,  but  everything  was  still,  still,  still. 

"'Scat!'" 

The  story-teller  had  been  talking  in  a  very  low  tone. 
He  uttered  the  last  word  with  an  explosive  voice  when  he 
had  caused  all  ears  to  be  strained.  His  hearers  leaped  at 
this  electric  ending  of  his  Red  Settle  Tale. 

He  resumed  his  pipe,  and  merely  added: 

"  There  are  some  things  that  human  nature  can  not 
stand.  When  a  man  finds  out  something  to  be  nothing, 
for  example,  like  the  treasure  digger  of  Cape  Ann." 

After  a  long  time,  during  which  heart-beats  became 
normal,  some  one  might  venture  to  ask: 

"And  what  became  of  the  old  woman?" 

"Oh,  after  the  old  man  spoke  the  sea  roared  and 
came  rushing  into  the  thatch-patch  and  over  it,  and  he 
and  the  cat  ran,  and  I  mind  me  that  that  cat  didn't  have 
much  peace  and  comfort  in  the  house  after  that." 


CHAPTER  Y 

THE   WAE   OFFICE   IN   THE    CEDARS AN   INDIAN   TALE 

INCIDENTS 

The  old  war  office  at  Lebanon,  Conn.,  is  still  to  be 
seen.  That  war  office  is  a  relic  room  and  a  library 
now.  The  great  cedars  are  gone  that  once  surrounded 
it,  and  the  old  Alden  Tavern,  which  was  enlivened  by 
colonial  tales,  and  in  later  times  by  the  queer  Revolu- 
tionary tale  of  the  humiliation  of  the  captured  Pres- 
cott,  has  now  left  behind  it  the  borders  of  the  village 
green.  The  ground  where  Washington  reviewed  the 
army  of  Rochambeau  is  still  held  sacred,  and  near  by 
rises  the  church  of  the  Revolution,  and  in  a  wind-swept 
'New  England  graveyard,  on  the  hillside,  in  a  crumbling 
tomb,  sleeps  Governor  Trumbull,  Washington's  "  Brother 
Jonathan,"  whom  the  great  leader  of  the  soldier  com- 
moners used  to  consult  in  every  stress  of  the  war. 

In  the  same  lot  of  rude,  mossy,  zigzag  headstones  rests 
one  of  the  signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence, 
William  Williams,  who  married  Governor  Trumbull's 
daughter. 

This  place  of  rare  history  stands  apart  from  the  main 
traveled  roads.  To  reach  it,  go  to  Willimantic,  and  take 
58 


THE  WAR  OFFICE  IN  THE  CEDARS  59 

a  branch  railroad  to  Lebanon,  whicb  town  of  hidden 
farms  was  so  called  from  its  cedars. 

What  a  wonder  to  a  lover  of  history  this  place  is! 
The  farms,  with  orchards,  great  barns  and  meadows,  rise 
on  the  hill-slopes  as  beautiful  as  they  are  thrifty.  The 
town  is  some  two  or  more  miles  from  the  railroad,  and 
the  visitor  wonders  how  a  place  that  decided  the  greatest 
events  of  history  could  have  been  left  to  primitive  life, 
simplicity,  and  country  roads,  amid  all  the  industrial 
activities  that  circle  round  it  in  near  great  factory  towns. 

There  may  be  seen  the  New  England  of  old — the 
same  bowery  landscapes  and  walls  that  the  rugged 
farmers  knew,  who  left  their  plows  for  Bunker  Hill, 
after  the  Lexington  alarm.  Putnam  often  rode  over 
these  hills,  and  young  John  Trumbull,  as  we  have  shown, 
began  his  historical  pictures  there. 

The  little  gambrel-roofed  house  called  the  war  office, 
where  the  greatest  and  most  decisive  events  of  the  Revo- 
lution had  their  origin,  or  support,  was  probably  the  coun- 
try store  of  Governor  Trumbull's  father,  and  was  erected 
near  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

Why  did  this  little  building  gain  this  great  impor- 
tance, an  importance  greater  than  any  other,  except,  per- 
haps, the  old  State  House,  Boston,  and  Independence 
Hall,  Philadelphia?  Let  us  repeat  some  facts  for  clear- 
ness. 

Lebanon  of  the  cedars  lay  on  the  direct  road  to  Bos- 
ton, and  was  connected  with  the  principal  Connecticut 
towns.  There  was  sounded  the  Lexington  alarm.  The 
Connecticut  Assembly  delegated  great  powers  to  a  com- 


60  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

mittee  of  public  safety.  Governor  Trumbull,  wbo  was 
the  leading  spirit  of  it,  and  three  other  members,  resided 
in  Lebanon,  and  held  the  early  sessions  of  the  committee 
there.  This  committee  continued  its  sessions  here  during 
the  war. 

The  house  occupied  by  Governor  Trumbull  still 
stands,  as  we  have  said,  but  the  tavern  is  gone. 

The  writer  dined  in  the  house  a  few  months  before 
beginning  this  story,  and  was  shown  the  part  of  the  house 
where  the  alarm-post,  as  we  call  the  guard's  room,  and 
overlook,  were. 

We  give  a  picture  of  this  most  interesting  house,  one 
of  the  most  significant  in  the  country.  The  spirit  of  the 
Revolution  dwelt  there,  and  from  this  place  it  exercised 
a  wonderful  but  unseen  power. 

The  Connecticut  Society  of  the  Sons  of  the  Revolu- 
tion in  the  winter  of  1890-'91  made  provision  for  the 
preservation  of  the  war  office,  as  a  notable  relic  of  the 
Revolution. 

The  building  was  repaired.  The  oak  framework  was 
found  to  be  sound,  and  the  decayed  sills  were  replaced 
by  new  timber,  and  the  chimney  was  restored  and  fur- 
nished with  colonial  firepieces  from  old  houses  in  Leb- 
anon. Andirons  made  in  the  Revolution,  old  iron  cranes, 
and  primitive  utensils  were  brought  to  the  council  room, 
and  the  place  of  the  meetings  of  the  Committee  of  Public 
Safety  was  thus  made  to  resume  the  aspect  of  a  bygone 
age  of  the  farmer  heroes. 

The  celebration  of  the  restoration  of  the  war  office 
by  the  Sons  of  the  Revolution  took  place  May  14,  1891, 


Brother  Jonathan's "  war  oflice  and  residence  in  Lebanon, 
Connecticut. 


THE  WAR  OFFICE  IN  THE  CEDARS  61 

on  Flag-day,  when  there  waved  a  flag  with  the  motto 
of  "  Brother  Jonathan "  in  company  with  the  Star- 
Spangled  Banner. 

On  that  occasion  the  modem  American  flag  was  raised 
over  the  old  war  office  for  the  first  time,  where 

Jonathan  Trumbull  never  failed 
In  his  store  on  Lebanon  Hill. 

Jonathan  Trumbull  has  well  been  called  the  Cedar  of 
Lebanon.  The  story  of  his  early  life  is  that  of  one  of 
nature's  independent  noblemen,  than  which  no  title  is 
higher.  His  own  brains  and  hands  caused  him  to  be  a 
powerful  influence;  he  made  character,  and  character  made 
him;  he  became  poor,  but  nothing  lives  but  righteousness, 
and  character  is  everything. 

The  origin  of  his  family  name  is  interesting. 

A  Scottish  king  was  out  hunting,  and  was  attacked 
by  a  bull.  A  young  peasant  threw  himself  before  the 
king,  twisted  the  bull's  horns,  and  saved  the  king's  life. 
The  king  gave  him  the  name  of  "  Turnbull,"  with  a  coat 
of  arms  and  the  motto,  Fortuna  favet  audaci.  Hence 
the  name  Trumbull. 

The  wife  of  Trumbull,  as  we  have  shown,  came  from  a 
family  equally  noble.  She  was  the  great-granddaughter 
of  Robinson  of  Leyden,  the  patriarch  of  the  church  of  the 
Pilgrim  Fathers  in  Holland.  It  was  he  who  said  to  the 
Pilgrims  on  their  departure :  "  Go  ye  forth  into  the 
wilderness,  and  new  light  shall  break  forth  from  the 
Word." 

He  had  intended  to  follow  the  Pilgrims  to  America, 
but  died  in  Holland, 


62  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

Jonathan  Trumbull  was  born  in  Lebanon,  Conn., 
1710.  He  was  a  successful  trader  at  sea  for  a  time;  be 
then  lost  bis  ships  and  property  and  became  a  poor  man, 
when  he  was  called  into  the  public  service,  and  from  that 
time  devoted  himself  to  patriotic  duties,  without  any- 
thought  of  poverty  or  riches,  but  only  to  fulfil  the  duties 
into  which  he  had  been  called.  He  lived  not  for  himself, 
but  for  others;  not  for  the  present,  but  for  the  future;  he 
forgot  himself,  and  it  was  fame. 

His  son,  John  Trumbull,  the  famous  historical  painter, 
pictures  by  anecdotes  some  of  the  scenes  of  his  early 
home.  Among  these  incidents  is  the  following  story, 
which  carries  its  own  lesson: 

AN  INDIAN  TALE 

"At  the  age  of  nine  or  ten  a  circumstance  occurred 
which  deserves  to  be  written  on  adamant.  In  the  wars 
of  !N^ew  England  with  the  aborigines,  the  Mohegan  tribe 
of  Indians  early  became  friends  of  the  English.  Their 
favorite  ground  was  on  the  banks  of  the  river  (now  the 
Thames)  between  'New  London  and  ]N"orwich.  A  small 
remnant  of  the  Mohegans  still  exists,  and  they  are  sa- 
credly protected  in  the  possession  and  enjoyment  of  their 
favorite  domain  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames.  The  gov- 
ernment of  this  tribe  had  become  hereditary  in  the  family 
of  the  celebrated  chief  TJncas.  During  the  time  of  my 
father's  mercantile  prosperity  he  had  employed  several 
Indians  of  this  tribe  in  hunting  animals,  whose  skins  were 
valuable  for  their  fur.  Among  these  hunters  was  one 
named  Zachary,  of  the  royal  race,  an  excellent  hunter, 


THE  WAR  OFFICE  IN  THE  CEDARS  63 

but  as  drunken  and  worthless  an  Indian  as  ever  lived. 
When  he  had  somewhat  passed  the  age  of  fifty,  several 
members  of  the  royal  family  who  stood  between  Zachary 
and  the  throne  of  his  tribe  died,  and  he  found  himself 
with  only  one  life  between  him  and  empire.  In  this 
moment  his  better  genius  resumed  its  sway,  and  he 
reflected  seriously.  '  How  can  such  a  drunken  wretch 
as  I  am  aspire  to  be  the  chief  of  this  honorable  race — 
what  will  my  people  say — and  how  will  the  shades  of  my 
noble  ancestors  look  down  indignant  upon  such  a  base 
successor?  Can  I  succeed  to  the  great  Uncas?  I  will 
drink  no  more!  '  He  solemnly  resolved  never  again  to 
taste  any  drink  but  water,  and  he  kept  his  resolution. 

"  I  had  heard  this  story,  and  did  not  entirely  believe 
it;  for  young  as  I  was,  I  already  partook  in  the  prevail- 
ing contempt  for  Indians.  In  the  beginning  of  May,  the 
annual  election  of  the  principal  ofiicers  of  the  (then) 
colony  was  held  at  Hartford,  the  capital.  My  father 
attended  officially,  and  it  was  customary  for  the  chief  of 
the  Mohegans  also  to  attend. 

"  Zachary  had  succeeded  to  the  rule  of  his  tribe.  My 
father's  house  was  situated  about  midway  on  the  road 
between  Mohegan  and  Hartford,  and  the  old  chief  was 
in  the  habit  of  coming  a  few  days  before  the  election 
and  dining  with  his  brother  governor.  One  day  the 
mischievous  thought  struck  me,  to  try  the  sincerity  of 
the  old  man's  temperance.  The  family  were  seated  at 
dinner,  and  there  was  excellent  home-brewed  beer  on  the 
table.  I  addressed  the  old  chief:  'Zachary,  this  beer  is 
excellent;  will  you  taste  it?'     The  old  man  dropped  his 


64  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

knife  and  fork,  leaning  forward  with  a  stern  intensity  of 
expression;  his  black  eye,  sparkling  with  indignation,  was 
fixed  on  me.  '  John,'  said  he,  '  you  do  not  know  what  you 
are  doing.  You  are  serving  the  devil,  boy!  Do  you  not 
know  that  I  am  an  Indian?  I  tell  you  that  I  am,  and 
that,  if  I  should  but  taste  your  beer,  I  could  never  stop 
until  I  got  to  rum,  and  became  again  the  drunken,  con- 
temptible wretch  your  father  remembers  me  to  have 
been.  John,  while  you  live  never  again  tempt  any  man 
to  hreah  a  good  resolution.' 

"  Socrates  never  uttered  a  more  valuable  precept ; 
Demosthenes  could  not  have  given  it  in  more  solemn 
tones  of  eloquence.  I  was  thunderstruck.  My  parents 
were  deeply  affected;  they  looked  at  each  other,  at  me, 
and  at  the  venerable  old  Indian,  with  deep  feelings  of 
awe  and  respect.  They  afterward  frequently  reminded 
me  of  the  scene,  and  charged  me  never  to  forget  it. 

"  Zachary  lived  to  pass  the  age  of  eighty,  and  sacredly 
kept  his  resolution.  He  lies  buried  in  the  royal  burial- 
place  of  his  tribe,  near  the  beautiful  falls  of  the  Yantic, 
the  western  branch  of  the  Thames,  in  J^orwich,  on  land 
now  owned  by  my  friend,  Calvin  Goddard,  Esq.  I  visited 
the  grave  of  the  old  chief  lately,  and  there  repeated  to 
myself  his  inestimable  lesson," 

Mr.  Trumbull,  the  painter,  also  thus  pictures  his  owti 
youth,  and  what  a  character  it  presents  in  the  studies  he 
made,  and  the  books  he  read! 

"  About  this  time,  when  I  was  nine  or  ten  years  old, 
my  father's  mercantile  failure  took  place.  He  had  been 
for  years   a   successful   merchant,    and   looked    forward 


THE  WAR  OFFICE  IN  THE  CEDARS  65 

to  an  old  age  of  ease  and  affluence;  but  in  one  season 
almost  every  vessel,  and  all  the  property  whicli  he  had 
upon  the  ocean,  was  swept  away,  and  he  was  a  poor  man 
at  so  late  a  period  of  life  as  left  no  hope  of  retrieving 
his  affairs. 

"My  eldest  brother  was  involved  in  the  wreck  as  a 
partner,  which  rendered  the  condition  of  the  family 
utterly  hopeless.  My  mother  and  sisters  were  deeply 
afflicted,  and  although  I  was  too  young  clearly  to  com- 
prehend the  cause,  yet  sympathy  led  me  too  to  droop. 
My  bodily  health  was  frail,  for  the  sufferings  of  early 
youth  had  left  their  impress  on  my  constitution,  and 
although  my  mind  was  clear  and  the  body  active,  it  was 
never  strong.  I  therefore  seldom  joined  my  little  school- 
fellows in  plays  or  exercises  of  an  athletic  kind,  for  there 
I  was  almost  sure  to  be  vanquished;  and  by  degrees  ac- 
quired new  fondness  for  drawing,  in  which  I  stood  un- 
rivaled. Thus  I  gradually  contracted  a  solitary  habit, 
and  after  school  hours  frequently  withdrew  to  my  own 
room  to  a  close  study  of  my  favorite  pursuit. 

"  Such  was  my  character  at  the  time  of  my  father's 
failure,  and  this  added  gloomy  feelings  to  my  love  of 
solitude.  I  became  silent,  diffident,  bashful,  awkward  in 
society,  and  took  refuge  in  still  closer  application  to  my 
books  and  my  drawing. 

"  The  want  of  pocket-money  prevented  me  from  join- 
ing my  young  companions  in  any  of  those  little  expensive 
frolics  which  often  lead  to  future  dissipation,  and  thus 
became  a  blessing;  and  my  good  master  Tisdale  had  the 
wisdom  so  to  vary  my  studies  as  to  render  them  rather 


66  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

a  pleasure  than  a  task.  Thus  I  went  forward,  without 
interruption,  and  at  the  age  of  twelve  might  have  been 
admitted  to  enter  college;  for  I  had  then  read  Eutropius, 
Cornelius  l^epos,  Virgil,  Cicero,  Horace,  and  Juvenal 
in  Latin;  the  Greek  Testament  and  Homer's  Hiad  in 
Greek,  and  was  thoroughly  versed  in  geography,  ancient 
and  modern,  in  studying  which  I  had  the  advantage 
(then  rare)  of  a  twenty-inch  globe.  I  had  also  read  with 
care  Eollin's  History  of  Ancient  N'ations;  also  his  History 
of  the  Roman  Republic;  Mr.  Crevier's  continuation  of 
the  History  of  the  Emperors,  and  Eollin's  Arts  and 
Sciences  of  the  Ancient  I^ations.  In  arithmetic  alone  I 
met  an  awful  stumbling-block.  I  became  puzzled  by  a 
sum  in  division,  where  the  divisor  consisted  of  three 
figures.  I  could  not  comprehend  the  rule  for  ascertain- 
ing how  many  times  it  was  contained  in  the  dividend; 
my  mind  seemed  to  come  to  a  dead  stand;  my  master 
would  not  assist  me,  and  forbade  the  boys  to  do  it,  so  that 
I  well  recollect  the  question  stood  on  my  slate  unsolved 
nearly  three  months,  to  my  extreme  mortification. 

"  At  length  the  solution  seemed  to  flash  upon  my  mind 
at  once,  and  I  went  forward  without  further  let  or  hin- 
drance through  the  ordinary  course  of  fractions,  vulgar 
and  decimal,  surveying,  trigonometry,  geometry,  naviga- 
tion, etc.,  so  that  when  I  had  reached  the  age  of  fif- 
teen and  a  half  years,  it  was  stated  by  my  good  master 
that  he  could  teach  me  little  more,  and  that  I  was  fully 
qualified  to  enter  Harvard  College  in  the  middle  of  the 
third  or  junior  year.  This  was  approved  by  my  father, 
and  proposed  to  me.     In  the  meantime  my  fondness  for 


THE  WAR  OFFICE  IN  THE  CEDARS  67 

painting  had  grown  with  my  growth,  and  in  reading  of 
the  arts  of  antiquity  I  had  become  familiar  with  the 
names  of  Phidias  and  Praxiteles,  of  Zeuxis  and  Apelles." 

This  son,  who  began  his  great  career  as  an  historical 
painter  by  drawing  pictures  in  sand  on  the  floor,  after  the 
manner  we  have  shown,  as  he  grew  older  and  had  seen 
Europe,  determined  to  follow  his  genius.  The  young  man 
gives  us  the  following  view  of  his  father,  a  lovely  picture 
in  itself: 

"  My  father  urged  me  to  study  the  law  as  the  pro- 
fession which  in  a  republic  leads  to  all  emolument  and 
distinction,  and  for  which  my  early  education  had  well 
.  prepared  me.  My  reply  was  that,  so  far  as  I  understood 
the  question,  law  was  rendered  necessary  by  the  vices  of 
mankind;  that  I  had  already  seen  too  much  of  them  will- 
ingly to  devote  my  life  to  a  profession  which  would  keep 
me  perpetually  involved  either  in  the  defense  of  innocence 
against  fraud  and  injustice,  or  (what  was  much  more  re- 
volting to  an  ingenuous  mind)  to  the  protection  of  guilt 
against  just  and  merited  punishment.  In  short,  I  pined 
for  the  arts,  again  entered  into  an  elaborate  defense  of  my 
predilection,  and  again  dwelt  upon  the  honors  paid  to 
artists  in  the  glorious  days  of  Greece  and  Athens.  My 
father  listened  patiently,  and  when  I  had  finished  he  com- 
plimented me  upon  the  able  manner  in  which  I  had  de- 
fended what  to  him  still  appeared  to  be  a  bad  cause. 

"  '  I  had  confirmed  his  opinion,'  he  said,  '  that  with 
proper  study  I  should  make  a  respectable  lawyer;  but,' 
added  he,  'you  must  give  me  leave  to  say  that  you 
appear  to  have  overlooked,  or  forgotten,  one  very  impor- 


68  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

tant  point  in  your  case.'  '  Pray,  sir,'  I  rejoined,  '  wliat 
was  that?'  'You  appear  to  forget,  sir,  that  Connecticut 
is  not  Athens';  and  with  this  pithy  remark  he  bowed 
and  withdrew,  and  never  more  opened  his  lips  upon  the 
subject.  How  often  have  those  few  impressive  words 
occurred  to  my  memory — '  Connecticut  is  not  Athens ! ' 
The  decision  was  made  in  favor  of  the  arts.  I  closed  all 
other  business,  and  in  December,  1783,  embarked  at 
Portsmouth,  N.  II.,  for  London." 

He  could  begin  to  make  Connecticut  like  Athens  by 
his  own  work. 

Queer  tales  they  told  "  grave  people  "  at  the  ordinaries, 
and  inns,  and  at  the  store  of  the  war  office. 

The  New  England  mind  in  the  colonial  period  saw 
no  chariots  of  angels  in  the  air,  and  heard  no  rustlings  of 
angels'  wings,  like  the  ancient  Hebrews,  and  looked  for 
no  goddesses,  like  the  Greeks  and  Romans.  Ugly  hags 
and  witches,  "  grave  people  "  in  winding-sheets,  scared 
folks  in  a  cowardly  manner  in  lonely  highways  and  hid- 
den byways;  bad  people  who  died  with  restless  consciences 
came  forth  from  their  "  earthly  beds  "  to  make  startling 
confessions  to  the  living.  It  was  a  time  of  terror,  of 
people  fleeing  from  persecutions,  and  of  Indian  hostili- 
ties. Let  us  have  another  old-time  store  story,  to  picture 
the  social  life  of  those  decisive  times. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  the  days  of  the  "  drovers," 
when  our  tale  was  told,  such  drovers  as  used  to  go  wander- 
ing over  New  England  in  the  fall  and  spring,  selling 
cattle,  or  trading  in  cattle,  with  the  farmers  by  the  way. 

It  was  fall.     Maples  flamed;  the  grape-leaves  turned 


THE  WAR  OFFICE  IN  THE  CEDARS  69 

yellow  around  the  purple  clusters  that  hung  over  the 
walls;  the  fringed  gentians  lined  the  brooks;  the  cran- 
berries reddened;  the  birds  gathered  in  flocks;  the  blue 
jays  trumpeted,  and  the  crows  cawed.  Great  stacks  of 
corn  filled  the  corners  of  the  husking-fields. 

The  drovers  came  to  the  valleys  of  the  Connecticut 
and  to  the  Berkshire  Hills,  and  rested  at  last  with  full 
purses  at  the  Plainfield  Inn. 

In  the  inn  lived  an  aunt  of  the  innkeeper,  a  Quaker 
woman  by  the  name  of  Eunice. 

There  was  a  young  drover  named  Mordecai,  who  was 
all  imagination,  eyes  and  ears.  He  seemed  to  be  so 
earnest  to  learn  everything  that  he  attracted  the  notice 
of  Eunice,  and  she  said  to  him  on  one  of  his  annual 
visits : 

"Mordecai,  and  who  may  thy  father  be?" 

"  Gone — gone  with  the  winds.     That's  him." 

"And  thy  mother?" 

"  Gone — gone  after  him.  That's  her.  Where  do 
you  suppose  they  are  ?  " 

"  Did  they  leave  anything?  " 

"Left  all  they  had." 

"And  how  much  was  that,  Mordecai?  " 

"  The  earth— all." 

"And  thou  wert  left  all  alone.  I  pity  thee, 
Mordecai." 

ISTow,  Quaker  Eunice  knit.  She  not  only  knit  stock- 
ings and  garters,  but  comforters  for  the  neck,  and  gallows, 
as  suspenders  for  trousers  were  then  called.  The  latter 
were  called  galluses.     She  did  not  knit  these  useful  and 


TO  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

convenient  articles  for  her  own  people  alone,  but  for 
those  who  most  needed  them. 

When  serene  Aunt  Eunice  saw  how  friendless  the 
drover  boy  Mordecai  was,  her  benevolent  heart  quickened, 
and  she  resolved  to  knit  for  him  a  comforter  of  many 
bright  colors,  a  yard  long,  and  a  pair  of  gallows  of  stout 
twine,  to  give  him  on  his  return  another  year,  when  the 
cattle  traders  should  come  down  from  Boston.  It  took 
time  to  fabricate  these  high-art  treasures  of  many  kinds 
and  colors.  So  when  Mordecai  was  leaving  the  inn  this 
year,  she  called  after  him: 

"  Mordecai,  thee  halt  in  thy  goings." 

Mordecai  looked  back. 

"Boy,  thee  has  no  mother  to  look  after  thee  now, 
except  from  the  spirit-world.  I  am  going  to  knit  a  com- 
forter for  thee  that  will  go  around  thy  neck  three  times 
and  hang  down  at  that.  I  will  set  the  dye-pot  and  dye 
the  wool — the  ash-barrel  is  almost  full  now.  And  thee 
listen.  I  am  going  to  knit  a  pair  of  gallows  for 
thee " 

The  boy's  eyes  dilated.  He  had  never  heard  the 
word  used  before  except  for  the  cords  that  hung  pirates 
on  the  green  isle  in  Boston  harbor.  Did  she  expect  him 
to  be  hung? 

"  I  will  knit  the  gallows  stout  and  strong,  so  that  they 
will  hold.  But  I  must  not  tell  thee  all  about  it  now — 
thee  shall  know  all  another  year,  after  killing-time,  in  the 
Indian  summer,  when  the  wich-hazels  that  bloom  in  the 
fall  are  in  flower." 

Mordecai,  who  had  been  filled  with  'New  England 


THE  WAR  OFFICE  IN  THE  CEDARS  71 

superstitions  by  the  drovers'  tales  in  the  country  inns, 
stood  with  open  mouth,  when  Aunt  Eunice  added: 

"  I  am  going  to  put  a  new  invention  on  those  gallows  j 
it  will  prove  a  surprise  to  thee." 

It  did. 

The  boy  Mordecai  passed  a  year  in  wonder  at  what 
the  zigzag  journey  to  hill  towns  at  the  west  of  the  State 
would  bring  him  in  the  holiday  or  rest  seasons  of  the  fall. 
He  wandered  with  the  drovers  to  the  towns  around 
Boston,  and  on  the  Charles  and  "  Merrimack,"  trading 
and  selling  cattle,  and  "  putting  up  "  at  the  inns  by  the 
way,  he  himself  sleeping  in  the  barns,  under  the  swallows' 
nests. 

They  were  merry  merchantmen,  the  drovers.  Whit- 
tier  describes  them  in  a  poem.  Their  cattle  trades  had 
a  dialect  of  its  own,  and  there  was  an  unwritten  law  that 
"  all  was  fair  in  trade,"  to  which  "  honorable  dishonesty  " 
clear-minded  Aunt  Eunice  made  objection,  and  against 
which  she  "  delivered  exhortations." 

Some  of  these  merry  rovers  used  a  boy  to  help  them 
in  tricks  of  trade — to  shorten  the  age  of  cattle,  and  the 
time  when  the  latter  were  "  broke,"  and  like  matters. 

One  day  in  the  spring  tradings  a  Quaker  on  one  of  the 
Salem  farms  said  to  Mordecai: 

"  Boy,  thee  must  never  let  thy  tongue  slip  an  untruth, 
or  thee  will  come  to  the  gallows." 

The  next  year  the  drovers  and  Mordecai  took  their 
annual  journey  from  Cambridge  to  Springfield  and  east- 
em  Connecticut,  and  stopped  at  the  Plainfield  Inn. 

The  trees  flamed  with  autumnal  splendors  again;  the 


Y2  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

sun  seemed  burning  in  the  air,  now  with  a  clear  flame,  now 
with  a  smokj  haze;  there  were  great  corn  harvests  every- 
where. The  twilight  and  early  evening  hours  were  still. 
The  voices  on  the  farms  echoed — those  of  the  huskers, 
and  of  the  boys  driving  the  oxen,  with  carts  loaded  with 
corn.  The  hunters'  moon  that  rose  over  the  hills  like  a 
night  sun  lengthened  out  the  day. 

They  went  on  slowly,  and  so  allowing  their  cattle  to 
graze  on  the  succulent  grasses  by  the  roadside,  and  to 
fatten,  and  become  lazy. 

They  rested  at  great  farmhouses,  bartering  and  sell- 
ing as  long  as  the  light  of  the  day  lasted,  and  telling 
awful  tales  of  the  Indian  wars  and  old  Salem  witchcraft 
days  later  in  the  evening. 

Some  of  the  drovers'  stories  were  awful  indeed. 
One  of  them  concerned  the  "  Miller  of  Durham."  The 
said  miller  used  to  remain  in  his  mill  late  in  the  evening 
alone.  One  night  he  was  startled  by  the  dripping  of 
water  inside  of  the  mill-house.  He  turned  from  the 
hopper,  and  saw  there  a  woman,  with  five  bloody  wounds, 
and  wet  garments,  and  wide  eyes. 

"  Miller  of  Durham,"  she  said,  "  you  must  avenge  me, 
or  I  will  haunt  the  mill.  You  will  find  my  body  in  the 
well  in  the  abandoned  coal-pit.  Mattox  killed  me — he 
knows  why," 

The  miller  knew  Mattox,  and  he  saw  that  the  woman 
had  a  familiar  look,  and  had  probably  been  employed  on 
the  farm  of  the  accused  man,  who  was  a  prosperous 
farmer.  He  resolved  to  conceal  the  appearance  of  the 
accusing  ghost.     But  the  apparition  followed  him,  and 


THE  WAR  OFFICE  IN  THE  CEDARS  73 

SO  made  his  life  a  terror  that  he  went  perforce  to  a  magis- 
trate and  made  confession.  The  woman's  body,  with  five 
wounds,  was  found  in  the  well  of  the  coal-pit,  and  Mattox 
was  accused  of  the  murder,  tried,  condemned,  and  exe- 
cuted. The  story  was  a  true  one,  but  it  was  an  old  one. 
The  events  occurred  in  England  on  a  moor. 

The  boy  Mordecai  listened  to  these  inn  tales  at  first 
with  a  clear  conscience,  and  he  felt  secure,  for  he  had 
been  taught  that  innocence  renders  "  apparitions  "  harm- 
less; but  after  a  time  his  moral  condition  changed,  and  his 
fears  were  aroused,  and  they  grew  into  terrors. 

For  one  day,  as  the  lively  cattle-owner  was  driving 
a  bargain  with  a  rich  farmer  under  some  great  elms  that 
rose  like  hills  of  greenery  by  the  roadside,  he  declared 
that  a  certain  cow  had  given  fifteen  quarts  of  milk  a  day 
during  the  summer,  and  had  said,  "  There  is  the  boy  that 
milked  her — the  boy  Mordecai,  he  of  the  Old  Testament 
name.  Speak  up,  Mordecai.  You  milked  her,  didn't  you, 
now? " 

Mordecai  stood  silent.  The  cow  had  given  some  eight 
or  ten  quarts  of  milk  a  day. 

"He  can't  deny  that  he  milked  her,"  said  the  ban- 
tering trader. 

"  And  did  she  give  fifteen  quarts  of  milk  regularly 
during  the  summer,  boy? "  asked  the  farmer. 

"  I  did  not  measure  the  milk  myself,"  said  the  boy. 
«  The  boss  did  that." 

"  That  was  I,  or  rather  my  wife,"  said  the  drover. 

Mordecai's  conscience  began  to  be  disturbed,  and  dis- 
turbed consciences  are  the  stuff  out  of  which  ghosts  grow. 


Y4  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

At  the  next  inn,  in  the  lovely  Connecticut  valley,  a 
still  more  terrible  story  was  told.  A  forest  tavern-keeper, 
after  this  tale,  had  trained  a  huge  mastiff  to  drown  his 
rich  guests  in  a  pond  in  a  wood  at  the  back  of  the  tavern. 
The  strong  dog  had  been  bought  of  a  drover  named 
Bonny,  who  had  treated  him  kindly.  Years  passed,  and 
the  same  Mr.  Bonny  visited  the  inn,  and  was  recognized 
by  the  dog,  but  not  by  the  tavern-keeper.  The  latter 
invited  Mr.  Bonny  to  go  with  him  to  the  trout-pond  in 
the  wood,  and  while  they  were  on  the  margin  of  the 
pond  he  suddenly  whistled  to  his  mastiff  as  a  signal. 
The  dog  whined  and  howled  and  ran  around  in  a 
circle. 

"Why  don't  you  do  as  you  always  do?"  exclaimed 
the  tavern-keeper  to  the  dog  in  anger. 

The  dog's  eyes  blazed ;  he.  leaped  upon  his  master  and 
dragged  him  into  the  pond.  But  his  master  in  his  strug- 
gles drowned  the  mastiff.  Mr.  Bonny  witnessed  the  scene 
in  horror,  and  seeing  what  it  meant — for  several  rich 
drovers  had  disappeared  from  the  inn  and  had  never  been 
heard  of  again — ^he  determined  to  conceal  the  matter, 
as  the  crime  could  not  be  repeated.  But  the  dead  dog 
howled  nights,  and  so  drew  people  to  the  pond,  and  dis- 
closed the  crime. 

"  Life,"  said  the  story-teller,  "  is  self -revealing :  every- 
thing is  found  out  at  last.  The  stars  in  their  courses 
fight  against  a  liar!  " 

The  inward  eyes  of  Mordecai  now  began  to  expect  to 
see  "  sights."  The  boy's  conscience  burned.  He  had 
the  ghost  atmosphere. 


THE  WAR  OFFICE  IN  THE  CEDARS  76 

The  next  time  that  the  lusty  drover  tried  to  sell  the 
cow  that  had  given  "  fifteen  quarts  of  milk  a  day  "  he 
declared  that  she  had  given  sixteen  quarts,  and  called  the 
milker  as  before  to  witness  the  statement. 

"  You  milked  her?  "  he  asked. 

"Yes;  but  you  measured  the  milk,"  said  Mordecai. 

"  So  I  did,"  said  the  drover  in  an  absent  tone  in  which 
was  the  usual  false  note,  "so  I  did.  I  remember  now. 
But  you  used  to  milk  her." 

"  Yes,"  faltered  the  boy,  feeling  that  the  heavens  were 
likely  to  fall  or  the  earth  to  cave  in. 

The  story  at  the  next  inn,  near  Pittsfield,  on  the  Al- 
bany way,  outdid  all  the  rest.  A  man  who  had  robbed 
his  neighbors  by  deception,  after  this  story,  had  been 
followed  nights  by  the  clanking  of  an  invisible  chain.  A 
neighbor  whom  he  had  ruined  died,  and  after  that  the 
clankings  of  the  "  invisible  chain  "  began  to  be  heard  in 
his  bedchamber.  If  he  ran  down-stairs  they  followed 
him,  clank,  clank,  clank,  on  the  oak  steps,  and  out  into 
the  garden. 

Mordecai  could  fancy  it  all:  the  man  running  half- 
crazed  down  the  oak  stairs,  with  the  invisible  chain  clank- 
ing behind  him. 

When  the  drover  next  tried  to  sell  that  cow  he  de- 
clared that  she  had  given  "  eighteen  quarts  of  milk  a 
day,"  to  which  he  called  Mordecai  to  witness.  The  boy 
gasped  "  Yes  "  to  the  question  if  he  had  milked  her  regu- 
larly, but  he  seemed  to  hear  the  clanking  of  the  invisible 
chain  as  he  acted  his  part  for  the  last  time.  The  won- 
derful cow  was  sold. 


76  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

In  tMs  state  of  mind  Mordecai  caine  to  tlie  Plainfield 
Inn,  and  again  met  there  the  serene  and  truthful  Aunt 
Eunice. 

"Ftc  kept  my  promise  that  I  made  to  thee  a  year 
ago,"  said  the  sympathetic  woman,  "  gallows  and  all.  The 
dyestuff  took,  and  the  colors  of  the  comforter  are  real 
pretty.     Thee  looks  troubled." 

Xear  midnight  the  foresticks  in  the  fireplace  broke 
and  fell,  and  the  men  went  to  their  rooms. 

"Thee  will  sleep  in  the  cockloft,"  said  Aunt  Eunice 
to  Mordecai,  ^*  but  before  thee  goes  up  let  me  sew 
some  buttons  on  thy  trousers  for  the  gallows  [galluses]. 
Stand  up  by  me;  I  have  some  stout  thread  for  the  pur- 
pose." 

Mordecai  took  ofF  his  jacket  and  loosened  his  belt,  and 
Aunt  Eunice  sewed  on  the  buttons  as  he  stood  beside  her. 
She  then  attached  the  gallows  to  the  back  buttons,  leav- 
ing them  otherwise  free  for  him  to  button  on  in  front 
in  the  morning. 

"  See  here,  Mordecai,"  she  said.  "  These  are  no  com- 
mon gallows.  Fve  put  buckles  on  them — buckles  that 
my  grandfather  wore  in  the  Indian  wars.  These  are 
wonderful  buckles.  If  the  gallows  are  too  long,  thee 
can  h'ist  them  up,  so;  if  they  are  then  too  short,  thee 
can  let  them  out  again,  so." 

Xow,  when  Mordecai  saw  that  the  gallows  had  no 
connection  with  hanging  he  felt  happy,  and  he  went  up 
to  the  cockloft,  candle  in  hand. 

"Be  careful  and  not  let  the  buckles  drag  upon  the 
floor,  Mordecai,"  were  the  good  woman's  last  words  as 


THE  WAR  OFFICE  IN  THE  CEDARS  77 

she  saw  the  boy  disappear  with  the  light,  holding  the 
wonderful  suspenders  in  his  hand. 

Mordecai  could  not  sleep.  The  cockloft  did  not  look 
right,  did  not  fulfil  his  moral  ideal.  The  great  moon 
rose  over  the  hills  and  flooded  the  valley  with  white 
light.  He  began  to  think  of  the  three  acted  lies  of  which 
he  had  been  a  part.  The  cow  that  had  given  "  fifteen," 
"  sixteen,"  "  seventeen,"  "  eighteen  "  quarts  of  milk  a  day 
had  been  sold — what  if  the  purchaser  should  commit 
suicide  ? 

At  midnight  he  heard  a  cry  out  in  the  field. 

"  Hello !  that  steer  is  out  and  is  at  the  corn-stack !  " 

The  voice  was  that  of  a  drover.  Mordecai  felt  that 
he  should  get  up  and  go  to  the  corn-stack  and  help  im- 
pound the  steer. 

He  forgot  the  gallows,  so  they  hung  down  to  the 
floor  behind  him  after  he  had  dressed.  He  tried  to 
light  the  candle  after  the  old  slow  way,  for  the  ladder  to 
the  cockloft  was  "  poky,"  when  he  heard  something  clink 
behind  him.  He  turned  around,  when  an  iron  hoof 
seemed  to  follow  him  around,  clink,  clink,  clink.  The 
sound  was  not  alarming  or  vengeful  or  in  a  way  terrible, 
but  to  his  imagination  it  shook  the  roof. 

He  whirled  around  again. 

Clink,  clink! 

Again. 

Clink! 

His  heart  seemed  bursting,  his  brain  to  be  on  fire. 
He  rushed  toward  the  ladder  and  the  "  thing  "  followed 
him.     He  attempted  to  go  down  the  ladder,  but  after 


T8  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

some  steps  the  "  thing  "  held  him  back,  v/hen  he  uttered 
a  cry  that  shook  the  whole  tavern  and  made  the  people 
leap  from  their  beds. 

"Hel-up!     Hel-up!     Let  go!     Let  go!" 

The  landlord  came  running,  and  saw  the  situation. 

"I  never  thought  that  you  would  come  to  the  gal- 
lows," said  he,  "  but  you  have !  " 

"  All  the  powers  have  mercy  on  me  now!  "  cried  Mor- 
decai.  ''  But  I'll  confess.  Will  you  let  me  go  if  I  con- 
fess?" 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  the  landlord.  "What  have  you  on 
your  mind? " 

The  drovers  came  running  in. 

"  That  cow  didn't  give  no  fifteen  quarts.  I  connived. 
The  drover  put  me  up  to  it — the  Lord  of  massy,  what  will 
become  of  his  soul?    I'll  never  connive  again!  " 

Then  said  the  landlord: 

"I'll  have  to  let  you  go." 

He  unloosened  the  "  galluses,"  which  had  wound 
around  a  rung  in  the  ladder,  and  Mordecai  kept  his  con- 
science clear  even  in  cattle  trade  ever  after. 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE   DECISIVE   DAY   OF   BKOTHER   JONATHAN'S    LIFE 


r'r 


Befoee  we  leave  this  part  of  our  subject  we  should 
study  the  event  that  made  the  great  character  of  the 
Governor. 

All  lives  have  decisive  days.  Such  a  day  determined 
the  great  destiny  of  Jonathan  Trumbull. 

The  stamp  act  had  been  passed  in  Parliament,  by 
which  a  stamp  duty  was  imposed  upon  all  American  paper 
that  should  be  used  to  transact  business  and  upon  articles 
essential  to  life.  Persons  were  to  be  appointed  to  sell 
stamps  for  the  purpose.  This  was  taxation  without  rep- 
resentation in  Parliament,  and  was  regarded  as  tyranny 
in  America. 

All  persons  holding  office  under  England  were  re- 
quired to  make  oath  that  they  would  support  the  stamp 
duty.  Among  these  were  the  Governor  of  Connecticut 
and  his  ten  councilors,  and  one  of  these  councilors  at  that 
time  was  Jonathan  Trumbull. 

The  day  arrived  on  which  the  Governor,  whose  name 
was  Fitch,  and  his  councilors  assembled  to  take  the  oath 
or  to  resign  their  commissions. 

"  I  am  ready  to  be  sworn,"  said  the  then  Governor. 

79 


80  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"  The  sovereignty  of  England  demands  it.  Are  you 
all  ready?  " 

There  was  a  grave  silence. 

Jonathan  Trumbull  rose. 

"  The  stamp  act,"  said  he,  "  is  a  derogation  of  the 
chartered  rights  of  the  colony.  It  takes  away  our  free- 
dom. The  power  that  can  tax  us  as  it  pleases  can  govern 
us  as  it  pleases.  The  stamp  act  takes  away  our  liberties 
and  robs  us  of  everything.  It  makes  us  slaves  and  can 
reduce  us  to  poverty.    I  can  not  take  the  oath." 

"  But,"  said  the  royal  Governor,  "  the  officers  of  his 
Majesty  must  obey  his  commands  or  not  hold  his  com- 
missions. For  you  to  refuse  to  be  sworn  is  contempt  of 
Parliament.  The  King's  displeasure  is  fatal.  Gentlemen, 
I  am  ready  for  the  oath,  and  I  ask  that  it  be  now  ad- 
ministered to  me." 

The  Governors  of  all  the  provinces  except  Rhode 
Island  had  taken  the  oath.  Even  Franklin  and  Otis  and 
Richard  Henry  Lee  had  decided  to  submit  to  the  act  of 
unrestrained  tyranny.     They  thought  it  politic  to  do  so. 

But  Trumbull's  conscience  rose  supreme  over  every 
argument  and  consideration.  In  conscience  he  was  strong, 
as  any  one  may  be. 

"  I  can  not  take  the  oath,"  said  Trumbull.  "  Let  Par- 
liament do  its  worst,  and  its  armies  and  navies  thunder. 
I  will  not  violate  my  provincial  oath,  which  I  deem  to 
be  right.  I  will  be  true  to  Connecticut,  and  to  the  lib- 
erties of  man.  You  have  sworn  by  the  awful  name  of 
Almighty  God  to  be  true  to  the  rights  of  this  colony. 
I  have  so  sworn,  and  that  oath  will  I  keep." 


DECISIVE  DAY  OF  BROTHER  JONATHAN'S  LIFE       81 

It  was  near  the  close  of  the  day.  The  red  sun  was 
setting,  casting  his  glimmering  splendors  over  the  pines. 
The  oath  was  about  to  be  administered  by  the  royal  Gov- 
ernor. 

Jonathan  Trumbull  rose  up  among  the  councilors.  His 
soul  had  arisen  to  a  sublime  height,  and  despised  all  human 
penalties  or  martyrs'  fires. 

His  intense  eyes  bespoke  the  thoughts  that  were  burn- 
ing within  him. 

He  did  not  speak.  He  was  about  to  make  his  conduct 
more  eloquent  than  words. 

He  seized  his  tricornered  hat,  and  gave  back  a  look 
that  said,  "  I  will  not  disgrace  myself  by  witnessing  such 
a  ceremony  of  degradation."  He  moved  toward  the 
door. 

His  every  motion  betokened  his  self-command,  his 
soul  value,  his  uncompromising  obedience  to  the  law  of 
right.  Erect,  austere,  he  retreated  from  the  shadow  of 
the  room,  into  the  burning  light  of  the  sunset. 

He  closed  the  door  behind  him,  and  breathed  his 
native  air. 

Six  of  the  councilors  followed  him — six  patriot  sc- 
ceders. 

That  was  a  notable  day  for  liberty :  it  made  Trumbull 
a  power,  though  he  could  not  see  it. 

The  people  upheld  Trumbull.  At  the  next  election 
they  cast  out  of  office  the  Governor  and  those  of  his  coun- 
cilors who  had  received  the  oath,  and  Connecticut  was 
free. 

In  a  short  time  the  people  made  Jonathan  Trumbull, 


82  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

who  risked  all  by  leaving  the  room  at  the  dusk  of  that 

decisive  day,  their  Governor,  and  they  continued  him  in 

office  until  his  hair  turned  white,  and  he  heard  the  town 

bells   all   ringing   for   the    independence    and    peace    of 

America. 

Had  his  act  cost  him  his  life  he  would  have  done  the 

same.     He  would  have  owned  his  soul.     Honor  to  him 

was  more  than  life — 

My  life  and  honor  both  together  run ; 
Take  honor  from  me  and  my  life  is  done. 

When  "  Brother  Jonathan  "  returned  to  Lebanon  he 
was  greeted  by  all  hearts.  The  rugged  farmers  gathered 
on  the  green  around  him  with  lifted  hats.  The  children 
hailed  him,  even  the  Indian  children.  The  dogs  barked, 
and  when  the  bell  rang  out,  it  rang  true  to  his  ears; 
for  him  forever  the  bell  of  life  rang  true. 

But  his  life  was  forfeited  to  the  Crown.  What  of 
that?  His  soul  was  safe  in  the  Almighty,  and  he  slept 
in  peace,  lulled  to  rest  by  the  whispering  cedars.  So 
began  the  great  public  career  of  Trumbull.  He  was 
chosen  Lieutenant-Governor  in  1776,  and  Governor  in 
1769. 

He  was  made  the  chairman  of  the  Connecticut  Coun- 
cil of  Public  Safety,  which  met  at  his  war  office,  which 
at  first  was  a  protected  room  in  his  little  store.  His  biog- 
rapher, Stuart,  thus  gives  us  glimpses  of  this  busy  place : 

"  Within  that  '  war  office,'  with  its  old-fashioned 
'  hipped '  roof  and  central  chimney-stack,  he  met  his 
Council  of  Safety  during  almost  the  entire  period  of  the 
war.     Here  he  received  commissaries   and   sub-commis- 


DECISIVE  DAY  OP  BROTHER  JONATHAN'S  LIFE      83 

saries,  many  in  number,  to  devise  and  talk  over  the  means 
of  supply  for  our  armies.  From  hence  started,  from  time 
to  time  during  the  war,  besides  those  teams  to  which 
we  have  just  alluded,  numerous  other  long  trains  of  wag- 
ons, loaded  with  provisions  for  our  forces  at  the  East, 
the  West,  the  North,  and  the  South;  and  around  this 
spot — from  the  fields  and  farmyards  of  agricultural  Leb- 
anon and  its  vicinity — was  begun  the  collection  of  many 
a  herd  of  fat  cattle,  that  were  driven  even  to  the  far 
North  around  Lake  George  and  Lake  Champlain,  and 
to  the  far  distant  banks  of  the  Delaware  and  the  Schuyl- 
kill, as  well  as  to  neighboring  Massachusetts  and  the  banks 
of  the  Hudson. 

"  Here  was  the  point  of  arrival  and  departure  for 
numberless  messengers  and  expresses  that  shot,  in  every 
direction,  to  and  from  the  scenes  of  revolutionary  strife. 
Narragansett  ponies,  of  extraordinary  fleetness  and  aston- 
ishing endurance — worthy  such  governmental  post-riders 
as  the  tireless  Jesse  Brown,  the  *  alert  Samuel  Hunt,'  and 
the  'flying  Fessenden,'  as  the  latter  was  called — stood 
hitched,  we  have  heard,  at  the  posts  and  palings  around, 
or  by  the  Governor's  house,  or  at  the  dwelling  of  his 
son-in-law  Williams,  ready,  on  any  emergency  of  danger, 
to  fly  with  advices,  in  any  desired  direction,  on  the  wings 
of  the  wind.  The  marks  of  the  spurs  of  the  horsemen 
thus  employed  were  but  a  few  years  back  visible  within 
the  building — all  along  upon  the  sides  of  the  counters 
upon  which  they  sat,  waiting  to  receive  the  Governor's 
orders. 

"So  we  find  him  during  the  period  now  under  con- 


84  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

sideration  (1775),  executing  in  person  the  business  of 
furnishing  troops,  and  of  procuring  and  forwarding  sup- 
plies— now  flour,  particularly  from  Norwich;  now,  from 
various  quarters,  beef  and  pork;  now  blankets;  now  arms; 
but  especially,  at  all  times,  whenever  and  wherever  he 
could  procure  it,  powder,  the  manufacture  of  which  vital 
commodity  he  stimulated  through  committees  appointed 
to  collect  saltpeter  in  every  part  of  the  State.  '  The 
necessities  of  the  army  are  so  great '  for  this  article,  wrote 
Washington  to  him  almost  constantly  at  this  time,  '  that 
all  that  can  be  spared  should  be  forwarded  with  the 
utmost  expedition.' — '  Soon  as  your  expected  supply  of 
powder  arrives,'  wrote  his  son-in-law.  Colonel  Hunting- 
ton, from  Cambridge,  August  14th,  '  I  imagine  General 
Putnam  will  kick  up  a  dust.  He  has  got  one  floating 
battery  launched,  and  another  on  the  stocks.'  The  pow- 
der was  sent — at  one  time  six  large  wagon-loads,  and  at 
the  same  time  two  more  for  New  York,  on  account  of 
an  expected  attack  in  that  direction.  '  Our  medicine- 
chests  will  soon  be  exhausted,'  wrote  Huntington  at  the 
same  time.  The  medicine-chests  were  replenished.  And 
before  September  Trumbull  had  so  completely  drained 
his  own  State  of  the  materials  for  war  that  he  was  obliged 
to  write  to  Washington  and  inform  him  that  he  could  not 
then  afford  any  more." 

In  these  thrilling  days  the  people  awaited  the  news 
upon  the  village  green. 

The  village  green  of  Lebanon!  Across  it  the  old 
war  Governor  walked  a  thousand  times  to  attend  meet- 
ings at  the  office  in  the  interests  of  the  State  and  the 


DECISIVE  DAY  OF  BROTHER  JONATHAN'S  LIFE       85 

welfare  of  man.  A  monument  to  him  should  arise 
there. 

The  village  greens  of  New  England  were  fields  of  the 
highest  patriotism,  and  their  history  would  be  a  glorious 
record.  The  church  spires  rose  over  them;  the  school- 
house  bells;  and  on  them  or  in  a  hall  near  them  the 
folkmotes  were  held.  These  town  meetings  were  the  sug- 
gestions of  republican  government  and  the  patterns  of 
the  great  republic. 

How  the  words  "  Brother  Jonathan,"  that  became 
the  characteristic  name  of  the  nation,  reached  the  ears 
of  Washington  at  Cambridge  we  do  not  know.  It  became 
the  nickname — the  name  that  bespoke  character  to  the 
army  through  Washington.     It  will  always  live. 

How  did  the  people  of  Lebanon  among  the  cedars 
come  to  give  that  name  to  the  great  judge,  assistant,  and 
governor  that  rose  among  them?  In  his  official  life  he 
was  so  dignified  and  used  such  strong  Latin-derived  words 
to  express  his  thoughts  that  one  could  hardly  have  sus- 
pected a  Roger  de  Coverley  behind  the  courtly  dressed 
man  and  his  well-weighed  speech.  He  was  an  American 
knight. 

But  in  his  private  life  he  was  as  delightful  as  a  veri- 
table Roger  de  Coverley,  even  if  he  did  not  fall  asleep 
in  church.  The  true  character  of  an  old  New  Englander 
was  in  him.  He  loved  his  neighbors  as  his  own  self  with 
a  most  generous  and  sympathetic  love.  No  tale  of  knight- 
errantry  could  be  more  charming  than  that  of  the  life  he 
led  among  his  own  folk  in  Lebanon. 

He  probably  studied  medicine  that  he  might  doctor  the 


86  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

poor.  Were  any  poor  man  sick,  he  sent  another  in  haste 
to  consult  Brother  Jonathan;  and  Brother  Jonathan,  in 
gig,  and  possibly  in  wig,  with  his  greatcoat  in  winter, 
and  vials,  and  probably  snuff-box,  and  all,  hurried  to  the 
sick-bed. 

He  carried  the  medicine  of  medicine  with  him  in  his 
heart,  which  was  that  of  hope  and  cheer.  AVhatever 
other  doctors  might  say,  he  often  said :  "  I  have  seen  sicker 
men  than  you  recover;  you  may  get  well  if  you  only  look 
up;  it  is  the  spiritual  that  heals,  and  the  Lord  is  good 
to  all." 

He  always  asserted  that  the  unspiritual  perishes;  that 
that  truth  was  not  only  the  Bible  and  the  sermon,  but  that 
it  was  law.  He  had  charity  for  all  men,  and  he  made  it 
the  first  condition  of  healing  that  one  should  repent  of 
his  sins.  So  he  prayed  with  the  sick,  and  the  sick  people 
whom  he  visited  often  found  a  new  nature  rising  up  with- 
in them.  The  sick  poor  always  remembered  the  prescrip- 
tions of  Brother  Jonathan. 

He  was  an  astronomer  and  made  his  own  almanacs. 
H  any  one  was  in  doubt  as  to  what  the  weather  was  likely 
to  be,  he  went  to  Brother  Jonathan. 

The  cattlemen  and  sheep-raisers  came  to  him  for  ad- 
vice. Did  a  poor  cow  fall  sick,  she  too  found  a  friend 
in  Brother  Jonathan. 

He  would  have  given  away  his  hat  off  his  head  had  it 
not  been  a  cocked  one,  had  he  found  a  poor  man  with  his 
head  uncovered. 

He  gave  his  fire  to  those  who  needed  it  on  cold  days. 

There  had  been  established  a  school  in  Lebanon  for 


DECISIVE  DAY  OF  BROTHER  JONATHAN'S  LIFE       87 

the  education  of  Indian  children  for  missionaries.  His 
heart  went  into  it ;  of  course  it  did.  When  he  was  yet  rich 
— a  merchant  worth  nearly  $100,000  (£18,000)— he  made 
a  subscription  to  schools;  but  when  ship  after  ship  was 
lost  by  the  stress  of  war  and  other  causes,  and  he  became 
poor,  he  hardly  knew  how  to  pay  his  school  subscriptions, 
so  he  mortgaged  two  of  his  farms. 

"I  will  pay  my  debts,"  he  said,  "if  it  takes  a  life- 
time." And  none  doubted  the  word  of  Brother  Jona- 
than. 

The  people  all  pitied  him  when  he  lost  his  property, 
and  came  to  say  that  they  were  sorry  for  him  when  he 
partly  failed,  and  their  hearts  showed  him  a  new  world, 
and  made  him  love  every  one  more  than  before. 

Great  thanksgivings  they  used  to  have  in  his  per- 
pendicular house  among  the  green  cedars,  and  the  stories 
that  were  told  by  Madam  Trumbull  and  her  friends  ex- 
pressed the  very  heart  of  old  New  England  days. 

What  people  may  have  been  there  that  afterward 
came  to  tower  aloft,  and  some  of  them  to  move  the 
world!  Samuel  Occum  may  have  been  there,  the  Indian 
who  moved  London;  Brant  may  have  been  there,  whose 
name  became  a  terror  in  the  Connecticut  Colony  in  the 
Wyoming  Valley,  and  whom  the  poet  Campbell  falsely 
associates  with  the  tragedies  of  Wyoming. 

The  old  church  stood  by  the  green;  it  stands  there 
now.  In  it  Governor  Trumbull's  stately  proclamations 
were  read;  there  probably  the  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence was  proclaimed. 

Thanksgiving — ^what  stories  like  Christmas  tales  of 
7 


88  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

to-day  used  to  be  told  by  long  log  fires  after  the  cliurcli 
and  the  dinner,  which  latter  exhibited  all  the  products 
of  the  fields  and  woods!  A  favorite  story  concerned 
people  who  were  frightened  by  ghosts  that  were  not 
ghosts. 

Let  us  give  one  of  these  stories  that  pictures  the  heart 
and  superstition  of  old  New  England  and  also  one  of 
Connecticut's  handicrafts.  For  the  clock-cleaner  was 
a  notable  story-teller  in  those  old  days.  He  cleaned 
family  clocks  and  oiled  them,  sometimes  with  walnut  oil. 
He  usually  remained  overnight  at  a  farmhouse  or  inn, 
and  related  stories  of  clocks  wherever  he  found  a  clock 
to  clean. 

These  Connecticut  clock  stories  in  Brother  Jonathan's 
day  were  peculiar,  for  clocks  were  supposed  to  be  family 
oracles — to  stop  to  give  warning  of  danger,  and  to  stop, 
as  arrested  by  an  invisible  hand,  on  the  approach  of  death. 

Curious  people  would  gather  at  the  war  office  when 
the  wandering  clock-cleaner  appeared  upon  the  green. 
The  time-regulator  was  sure  to  tell  stories  at  the  Alden 
Tavern  or  at  the  war  office,  and  usually  at  the  latter. 
Men  with  spurs  would  sit  along  the  counter,  and  dig  their 
spurs  into  the  wood,  under  excitement,  as  the  clock  tale 
was  unfolded:  how  that  the  family  clock  stopped  and  the 
Nestor  of  the  family  died,  and  the  oldest  son  went  out 
and  told  the  bees  in  their  straw  hives. 

Peter  the  outcast  had  an  ear  for  these  many  tales  while 
about  his  work,  and  Dennis  O'Hay  was  often  found  on 
the  top  of  a  barrel  at  these  gatherings. 

Dennis  heard  these  New  England  tales  with  increasing 


DECISIVE  DAY  OP  BROTHER  JONATHAN'S  LIFE       89 

terror.  There  were  supposed  to  be  fairies  in  the  land 
from  which  he  came — fairy  shoemakers,  who  brought 
good  to  people  and  eluded  their  hand-grasp.  He  became 
so  filled  with  the  "  signs  "  and  superstitions  of  the  people 
that  once,  when  he  met  a  white  rabbit,  he  thought  it 
was  a  rabbit  turned  into  a  ghost,  and  he  ran  back  from 
the  woods  to  the  tavern  to  ask  what  the  "  sign  "  meant, 
when  one  saw  the  ghost  of  "  bunny."  A  nimble  little 
rabbit  once  turned  its  white  cotton-like  tail  to  him,  and 
darted  into  a  burrow.  He  ran  home  to  ask  what  meant 
the  sign,  and  the  good  taverner  said  that  was  a  sign 
that  he  had  lost  the  rabbit,  which  was  usually  the  case 
when  a  white  tail  so  vanished  from  sight. 

There  was  one  story  of  the  clock  that  was  associated 
with  early  revolutionary  days  that  pictures  the  times  as 
well  as  superstitions  vividly,  and  we  will  tell  it  and  place 
it  in  the  war  ofiice  on  a  long  evening  when  the  Governor 
was  busy  with  his  council  in  the  back  room. 

The  clock-cleaner  has  come,  the  farmers  sit  on  boxes 
and  barrels,  some  "  cavalry  "  men  hang  over  the  "  coun- 
ter," and  swing  their  feet  and  spurs.  The  candles  sputter 
and  the  light  is  dim,  and  the  Connecticut  clock-cleaner, 
amid  increasing  stillness  and  darkness,  relates  his  tale 
slowly,  which  was  like  this: 

THE  LIFTED  LATCH 

An  old  house  on  the  Connecticut  way  to  Boston  stood 
high  on  the  windy  hill.  I  have  ridden  past  it  at  night 
•when  the  dark  savins  lifted  their  conical  forms  on  the 
hillside  by  the  decrepit  orchards  and  the  clouds  scudded 


90  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

over  the  moon.  It  had  two  chimneys  that  seemed  to 
stand  against  the  sky,  and  I  saw  it  once  at  night  when 
one  of  those  chimneys  was  on  fire,  which  caused  my 
simple  heart  to  beat  fast  in  those  uneventful  days.  I 
had  heard  say  that  the  minutemen  stopped  there  on  their 
march  from  Worcester  to  Bunker  Hill  and  were  fed  with 
bread  from  out  of  the  great  brick  oven. 

My  father  told  me  another  thing  which  greatly  awa- 
kened my  curiosity.  When  the  minutemen  stopped  there 
on  their  march  to  meet  the  "  regulars,"  they  were  in  need 
of  lead  for  bullets.  They  carried  with  them  molds  in 
which  to  make  bullets,  but  they  could  not  obtain  the 
lead. 

The  good  woman  of  the  house  was  named  Overfield, 
Farmer  Overfield's  wife.  She  was  called  Mis'  Overfield. 
She  had  one  daughter,  a  lithe,  diminutive,  beautiful  girl, 
with  large  blue  eyes  and  lips  winsome  and  red,  of  such 
singular  beauty  that  one's  eyes  could  hardly  be  diverted 
from  following  her.  When  she  had  anything  to  say  in 
company,  there  was  silence.  She  was  the  "  prettiest  girl 
in  all  the  country  around,"  people  used  to  say.  And  she 
was  as  good  in  these  early  days  as  she  was  pretty. 

Her  name  was  Annie — "  sweet  Annie  Overfield " 
some  people  named  her. 

When  she  saw  that  the  minutemen  were  perplexed 
about  lead,  she  left  her  baking,  wiped  the  meal  from  her 
nose  that  had  been  itching  as  a  sign  "  that  company  was 
coming,"  and,  waving  her  white  apron,  approached  the 
captain  and  said: 

"  Captain,  I  could  tell  you  where  there  is  lead  if  I 


DECISIVE  DAY  OF  BROTHER  JONATHAN'S  LIFE      91 

had  a  mind  to.  But  what  would  father  say  if  I  should? 
And  my  grandfather  and  grandmother,  who  are  in  their 
graves — they  might  rise  up  and  shake  the  valances  o' 
nights,  and  that  would  be  scary,  O  Captain!  " 

Annie's  father  came  stalking  in  in  a  blue  blouse,  a 
New  England  guard,  ready  for  any  duty. 

"Father,  I  know  where  there  is  lead.    May  I  tell?" 

"  Yes,  girl,  and  the  men  shall  have  it  wherever  it  be. 
Where  is  it,  Annie?  I  have  no  lead,  else  I  would  have 
given  it  up  at  once." 

"In  the  clock  weights,  father." 

"Stop  the  clock!"  cried  the  father.  "Oh,  Annie, 
'tis  a  marvel  you  are !  " 

The  old  clock,  with  an  oak  frame,  stood  in  the  corner 
of  the  "  living  room,"  as  the  common  room  was  called, 
whose  doors  faced  the  parlor  and  the  kitchen.  It  had 
stood  there  for  a  generation.  It  was  some  eight  feet 
high  and  two  broad  in  its  upper  part  and  two  in  its 
lower.  It  had  a  brass  ornament  on  the  top,  and  it  ticked 
steadily  and  solemnly  always  and  so  loud  as  to  be  heard 
in  the  upper  rooms  at  night.  On  its  face  were  figures 
of  the  sun  and  moon.  Annie's  hand  had  for  several  years 
wound  the  clock. 

The  great  clock  was  stopped,  the  heavy  weights  were 
removed,  and  the  minutemen  carried  them  to  the  forge 
of  Baldwin,  the  blacksmith,  where  they  were  speedily 
melted  and  poured  into  the  molds. 

The  company  went  joyfully  away,  and  as  they 
marched  down  the  hill  the  captain  ordered  the  men  to 
give  three  cheers  for  Annie  Overfield.     That  that  lead 


92  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

did  much  for  the  history  of  our  country  there  can  be 
no  doubt.     How  much  one  can  not  tell. 

One  day,  shortly  after  these  events,  a  clock-cleaner 
came  to  the  house  on  the  hill.  The  maple  leaves  were 
flying  and  the  migrating  birds  gathering  in  the  rowen 
meadows.     He  said: 

"  I  can  not  regulate  the  clock  now,  but  I  will  be 
around  again  another  year." 

When  he  came  back,  the  sylph-like  Annie  was  gone — 
where,  none  knew.    She  had  been  gone  a  long  time. 

"Why  had  she  gone?  It  was  the  old  tale.  A  common 
English  sailor  from  the  provinces  came  to  work  on  the 
farm.  He  received  his  pay  in  the  fall  and  disappeared, 
and  the  day  after  he  went  Annie  went  too.  It  was  very 
mysterious.     She  had  been  "  her  mother's  girl." 

She  had  spent  her  evenings  with  the  sailor  after  the 
mowing  days  by  the  grindstone  under  the  great  maple- 
trees.  He  had  sung  to  her  English  sailor  songs  and  told 
her  stories  of  the  Spanish  main  and  of  his  cottage  at  St. 
John's.  He  was  a  homely  man,  but  merry-hearted,  and 
Annie  had  listened  to  him  as  to  one  enchanted.  She 
carried  him  cold  drinks  "  right  from  the  well "  in  the 
field.  She  watched  by  the  bars  for  him  to  come  in  from 
the  meadows  and  fields.  She  grew  thin,  had  "  crying 
spells,"  thought  she  was  going  "  into  a  decline."  She  was 
not  like  herself.  The  love  stronger  than  that  for  a  mother 
had  found  Annie  amid  the  clover-fields  when  the  west 
winds  were  blowing.  The  common  sailor  had  become  to 
her  more  than  life.  She  felt  that  she  could  live  better 
without  others  than  without  him. 


DECISIVE  DAY  OP  BROTHER  JONATHAN'S  LIFE      93 

She  had  said  to  her  mother  one  day: 

"  Malone  " — the  sailor's  name — "  has  a  good  heart. 
I  find  my  own  in  it.  I  wish  we  could  give  him  a  better 
chance  in  life." 

"  He  is  an  adventurer,  thrown  upon  the  world  like 
a  hulk  of  driftwood,  hither  and  thither,"  said  her  mother. 

"  I  pity  him.  His  heart  deserves  better  friends  than 
he  has  found.  I  want  to  be  his  friend.  Why  may  I 
not? " 

"  If  you  were  ever  to  marry  a  common  sailor,  Annie, 
I  would  strew  salt  on  your  grave.  I  married  a  common 
man,  but  he  has  been  good  to  me.  I  have  no  respect 
whatever  for  those  who  marry  beneath  them  and  shame 
their  own  kin.  But,  Annie,  that  rover  is  worse  than 
a  common  sailor — ^he  is  a  Tory;  think  of  that — a  Tory!  " 

Such  was  the  condition  of  the  family  when  the  old 
clock-cleaner  returned. 

He  heard  the  story  and  said: 

"  I  can  hardly  trust  my  ears.  Annie  was  such  a  good 
girl.  But  the  heart  must  wed  its  own.  I  pity  her.  She 
will  come  back  again,  for  Annie  is  Annie." 

Then  he  turned  to  the  clock  and  said: 

"  Now  I'm  going  to  examine  it  again  and  see  what 
I  can  do.  I  will  try  to  set  it  going  till  Annie  comes 
back." 

"I  shall  never  take  any  interest  in  such  things  any 
more,"  said  Mis'  Overfield.  "It  is  all  the  same  to  me 
whether  the  clock  goes  or  stands  still,  or  whether  life  goes 
or  stands  still,  for  that  matter.  I  loved  Annie,  and  that 
is  what  makes  it  so  hard.     She  used  to  watch  over  me 


94  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

when  I  was  sick,  oh,  so  faithfully,  but  I  shall  never 
feel  the  touch  of  her  hand  again,  Annie's  hand.  I  would 
weep,  but  I  have  no  tears  to  shed.  Life  is  all  a  blank 
since  this  came  upon  me.  The  burying  lot,  as  it  looks 
to  me,  is  the  pleasantest  place  on  earth.  I  look  out  of 
the  pantry  window  sometimes  and  say,  '  Annie,  come 
back.'  Then  I  shut  my  heart.  Oh,  that  this  should 
come  to  me!  " 

She  seemed  to  be  listening. 

"  How  I  used  to  wait  for  Annie  evenings — conference 
meeting  and  candle-light  meeting  nights  and  singing- 
school  evenings!  How  my  heart  used  to  beat  hard  when 
she  lifted  the  latch  of  the  porch  door  in  the  night! 

"  She  came  home  like  an  angel  then.  I  wonder  if 
Annie's  hand  will  ever  again  lift  the  latch  in  the  night. 
Trouble  brings  the  heart  home  and  sends  us  back  to  God. 
But  I  wouldn't  speak  to  her — lud,  no,  no,  no !  " 

The  tenderness  went  out  of  her  face,  and  a  strange, 
foreign  light  came  into  her  blue-gray  eyes. 

She  sat  looking  fixedly  toward  the  hill.  The  old 
graves  were  there. 

Farmer  Overfield  came  in. 

"Thinking?"  said  he. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  how  Annie  used  to  lift  the  latch 
evenings.    I  wish  it  could  be  so  again.     But  it  can't." 

"Why  not?  There  can  be  no  true  life  in  any  house- 
hold where  it  is  forbidden  to  any  to  lift  the  latch." 

The  clock-cleaner  could  not  find  the  key  of  the  clock. 
It  had  disappeared.    He  pounded  on  the  case  and  said: 

"  It  sounds  hollow." 


DECISIVE  DAY  OF  BROTHER  JONATHAN'S  LIFE      95 

Thanksgiving  day  came,  and  that  day  was  supposed 
to  bring  all  of  the  family  home. 

Mis'  Overfield  watched  the  people  coming,  and  she 
said  to  her  little  nurse  Liddy  as  she  waited: 

"  Have  they  all  come,  Liddy? " 

"ISTo,  mum;  not  all." 

"Who  is  there  to  come?" 

"Annie,  mum." 

"  She's  dead — dead  here.  I  sometimes  wish  she  would 
come,  Liddy.  But  I  wouldn't  speak  to  her  if  she  were  to 
come — that  common  sailor's  wife — and  he  a  Tory!  I 
wouldn't — ^would  you,  Liddy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mum." 

"  You  would?    Tell  me  why  now." 

"  Because  she  is  Annie.    You  would  too." 

Mis'  Overfield  gave  a  great  sob  and  threw  her  apron 
over  her  head,  and  said  in  a  muffled  voice : 

"  What  made  you  say  that,  Liddy? " 

"  There  may  come  a  day  when  Annie  can  not  come 
back.  The  earth  binds  fast — the  grave  does.  Think  what 
you  might  have  to  reflect  upon." 

"I,  Liddy— I?" 

"  Yes.  And  there  are  more  folks  in  some  old  houses 
than  one  can  see  always.  They  come  back.  There's 
been  a  dead  soldier  here  already.  I  saw  him.  And 
last  night  I  heard  the  latch  of  the  back  door  lift  up 
three  times." 

"Oh,  Liddy!  ITothing  can  ever  harm  us  if  we  do 
just  right.  It  was  Annie  that  went  wrong,  not  I.  What 
do  you  suppose  made  the  latch  lift  up? " 


96  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

She  stood  silent,  then  said,  with  sudden  resolution: 

"  Liddy,  you  go  straight  to  your  duties  and  never 
answer  your  mistress  back  again,  not  on  Thanksgiving 
day  nor  on  any  other  day." 

The  rooms  filled.  Brothers  and  sisters,  nephews  and 
nieces,  came,  and  some  of  the  guests  offered  to  help  the 
women  folks  about. 

The  hand  of  the  new  brass  clock  was  moving  around 
toward  12.  A  savory  odor  filled  the  room.  Little  Liddy 
flitted  to  and  fro,  handling  hot  dishes  briskly  so  as  not 
to  get  "  scalded." 

Those  who  were  voluntarily  helping  the  women  folks 
carried  hot  dishes  in  wrong  directions.  For  twenty  min- 
utes or  more  everything  went  wrong  in  the  usual  way  of 
the  country  kitchen  at  that  hour  of  the  day. 

There  was  a  jingle  in  the  new  brass  clock.  Then  it 
struck,  and  the  farmer  raised  his  hand,  and  everybody 
stood  still. 

Twelve ! 

"Now,  if  you  will  all  be  seated  at  the  tables,"  said 
Farmer  Overfield,  "  I  will  supplicate  a  blessing." 

He  did.  Prayer  has  a  long  journey  around  the  world 
on  Thanksgiving  day.  He  arrived  at  last  at  "  all  who 
have  gone  astray  but  are  still  a  part  of  the  visible  crea- 
tion " — his  mind  wavered  here — "  grant  'em  all  repent- 
ance and  make  us  charitable,"  he  said  in  a  lower  voice. 

The  room  was  very  still.  One  could  almost  hear  the 
dishes  steam. 

There  was  a  sound  in  the  corner  of  the  room.  The 
old  clock-case  quivered.     Farmer  Overfield  became  nerv- 


DECISIVE  DAY  OF  BROTHER  JONATHAN'S  LIFE      97 

ous  in  this  part  of  his  long  prayer,  opened  his  eyes  and 
said: 

"  Oh,  I  thought  I  heard  something  somewhere.  Where 
was  I?  Liddy,  she  says  that  she  heard  the  latch  lift  in 
the  night.    I  didn't  know " 

Just  here  there  was  a  crash  of  dishes.  Little  Liddy 
had  seen  the  old  clock-case  shake,  which  caused  her  to  lose 
nerve  power  just  as  she  was  very  carefully  moving  some 
dishes  when  she  thought  all  other  eyes  were  shut.  The 
guests  started. 

"Accidents  will  happen,"  said  Farmer  Overfield. 
"  ]^ow,  all  fall  to  and  help  yourselves.  It  seems  like  old 
times  to  find  all  the  family  here  again  just  as  it  used  to 
be — all  except  Annie,  Annie,  Annie.  Her  name  has  not 
been  spoken  to-day.  I  shall  keep  this  plate  and  seat  for 
her  here  close  by  my  side.  Annie's  heart  is  true  to  me 
still.  I  seem  to  feel  that.  I  wish  she  were  here  to-day. 
The  true  note  of  Thanksgiving  is  lacking  in  a  broken 
family.  There  can  be  no  true  Thanksgiving  where  there 
is  an  empty  chair  that  might  be  filled.  I  shall  always 
take  Annie's  part.  A  father  is  always  true  to  his  daugh- 
ter. I  will  yet  die  in  her  arms.  A  daughter  is  the  angel 
for  the  father's  room  when  the  great  shadow  falls." 

He  stood,  knife  and  fork  in  hand,  the  tears  running 
down  his  face. 

There  was  a  little  shriek  in  the  door  leading  to  the 
pantry. 

"What  now,  Liddy?"  asked  the  farmer. 

"  I  saw  something,"  said  Liddy,  with  shuttling  eyes. 

"What  did  you  see,  Liddy?" 


98  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"The  sun  and  moon  moving." 

"Massy!    Where,  Liddy ?  " 

"  On  the  face  of  the  clock.  Something  is  in  there. 
That  clock  comes  to  life  sometimes,"  she  added,  going  out. 

All  eyes  were  turned  toward  the  clock.  Knives,  forks, 
and  spoons  were  laid  down,  clicking  on  the  many  dishes. 

The  top  of  the  clock,  which  was  uncovered,  seemed 
animated.  Some  said  that  they  could  see  it  move,  others 
that  the  supposed  movement  was  merely  a  matter  of  the 
imagination. 

Liddy  came  into  the  room  again  with  more  dishes. 

"  I  think,"  said  she,  "  that  the  clock-case  is  haunted." 

"  Pshaw,  Liddy !  "  said  the  farmer.  "  And  what  makes 
you  say  that?  Who  is  it  that  would  haunt  that  old  eight- 
day  clock? " 

"  One  of  the  Britishers  who  was  shot  by  a  bullet  made 
from  the  lead  weights.  That's  my  way  of  thinking.  I've 
known  about  it  for  a  long  time." 

"  Liddy,  you're  a  little  bit  off — toucKed  in  mind — 
that's  what  you  are,  Liddy.  You  never  was  quite  all 
there." 

There  arose  another  nervous  shriek.  Knives  and  forks 
dropped. 

"  What  now,  Liddy?  "  asked  the  farmer.  "  You  set 
things  all  into  agitation." 

The  house  dog  joined  Liddy  in  the  new  excitement. 
He  ran  under  the  table  and  to  the  clock  and  began  to 
paw  the  case  and  to  bark.  There  was  a  very  happy,  lively 
tone  in  his  bark.  He  then  sat  down  and  watched  the 
clock  in  a  human  way. 


DECISIVE  DAY  OP  BROTHER  JONATHAN'S  LIFE      99 

The  guests  waited  for  the  farmer  to  speak. 

"  What  did  you  see,  Liddy?  "  asked  Mis'  Overfield. 

"  The  planets  turned.  Look  there,  now — now — there 
—there!" 

The  sun  and  moon  on  the  clock  face  were  indeed 
agitated.  The  old  dog  gave  a  leap  into  the  air  and 
barked  more  joyously  than  before. 

"The  valley  of  Ajalon!  "  said  the  farmer.  "That 
old  timepiece  is  bewitched.  These  things  are  mightily 
peculiarsome.  I'm  not  inclined  to  be  superstitious,  but 
what  am  I  to  think,  the  planets  turning  around  in  that 
way?  They  say  dogs  do  see  apparitions  first  and  start  up. 
What  would  Annie  say  if  she  were  here  now?  You  don't 
believe  in  signs,  any  of  you,  do  you?  I'm  not  supersti- 
tious, as  I  said,  and  I  say  it  again.  But  what  can  be 
the  matter  with  that  there  old  clock-case?  I  hope  that 
nothing  has  happened  to  Annie.  She  used  to  wind  that 
clock.    What  do  you  suppose  is  the  matter? " 

The  farmer's  eyes  rolled  like  the  planets  on  the  clock 
face. 

"  Let  me  go  and  see,"  said  Mis'  Overfield,  rising  slowly 
and  going  toward  the  case,  which  seemed  to  quiver  as 
she  advanced,  supporting  herself  by  the  backs  of  the 
chairs. 

The  nervous  fancies  of  little  Liddy  could  not  be  re- 
pressed.    She  called  in  an  atmospheric  voice: 

"Mis'  Overfield,  be  careful  how  you  open  that  clock 
door." 

Mis'  Overfield  stopped. 

"  Why,  Liddy,  you  distress  me.    The  things  that  you 


100  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

say  go  to  my  nerves.  Why,  Liddy,  should  I  be  afraid 
to  open  the  clock  door? " 

"  Suppose,  Mis'  Overfield — dare  I  say  it — suppose 
you  should  find  a  dead  body  there?" 

Mis'  Overfield  leaned  on  the  back  of  a  chair,  and 
Liddy  added  in  an  awesome  tone: 

"A  girl's — ^your  own  flesh  and  blood.  Mis'  Overfield. 

Farmer  Overfield  leaned  back  in  his  chair. 

The  table  was  as  silent  as  though  it  had  been  bare 
in  an  empty  room. 

The  dog  gave  a  quick,  sharp  bark. 

Mis'  Overfield  stood  trembling. 

"  Heaven  forgive  me !  "  she  said.  "  My  heart  and 
Annie's  are  the  same.  We  should  be  good  to  our 
own." 

She  shook.  "If  I  only  knew  that  Annie  was  alive, 
I  would  forgive  her  everything.  I  would  take  her  home 
to  my  bosom,  her  Tory  husband  and  all.  I  never  would 
have  one  hour  of  peace  if  she  were  to  die.  I  never  knew 
my  heart  before.  Her  cradle  was  here,  and  here  should 
be  her  last  rest.  Annie  was  a  good  girl,  and  I  am  blind 
and  hard.  Annie,  Annie!  Oh,  I  would  not  have  any- 
thing befall  Annie.  Albert,  where  is  the  key  of  the 
clock? " 

The  boy  gave  his  mother  the  key. 

"Here,  mother,  and  it  is  a  jolly  time  we'll  have." 

"  Albert,  how  can  you  smile  at  a  time  like  this !  Didn't 
you  hear  what  she  suggested?  Don't  you  sense  it?  You 
go  with  me  now  slowly,  for  I  am  all  nerves,  and  my 
heart  is  weak." 


DECISIVE  DAY  OP  BROTHER  JONATHAN'S  LIFE    101 

«  That  I  wiU,  mother." 

He  gave  her  his  arm  and  looked  back  with  smiling 
eyes  on  the  terrified  guests. 

"Dast  that  boy,  he  knows!"  cried  Liddy  in  almost 
profane  excitement.  "  Hold  up  your  hands.  The  house 
is  going  to  fall." 

"  Be  quiet,  Liddy,"  said  the  farmer.  "  All  be  quiet 
now.  We  can  not  tell  what  is  before  us.  Be  still.  It 
seems  as  though  I  can  hear  the  steps  of  Providence. 
Something  awaits  us.    I  can  feel  it  in  my  bones." 

The  guests  arose,  and  all  stood  silent. 

Mis'  Overfield  stopped  before  the  clock  door. 

"Annie's  hand  used  to  wind  the  clock,"  she  said. 
"  Oh,  what  would  I  give  to  hear  her  wind  the  clock  once 
more!  I  would  be  willing  to  lie  down  and  give  up  all 
to  know  that  she  was  alive.  Liddy's  words  do  so  chill 
me." 

She  knocked  on  the  clock  door. 

"Mother!" 

The  voice  was  the  music-like  tone  of  old.  "Mother, 
you  will  forgive  me  if  I  did  marry  a  Tory,  for  Annie 
is  Annie — always  Annie!  " 

The  guests  stood  with  intent  faces. 

The  clock  shook  again.  The  old  woman  moved 
back. 

"  That  was  Annie's  voice.  Husband,  you  go  and  see. 
If  that  is  not  Annie,  then  my  heart  is  dead  forever,  and 
I  hope  there  may  be  no  hereafter  for  me." 

Farmer  Overfield  took  the  keys  and  slowly  opened 
the  clock  door. 


102  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

The  guests  stood  witli  motionless  eyes.  The  opening 
door  revealed  at  first  a  dress,  then  a  hand.  The  old 
woman  threw  up  her  arms. 

"  That's  Annie's  hand.  There  is  no  ring  on  it.  Annie 
was  too  poor  to  have  a  wedding-ring.  Open  it  slowly, 
husband.    If  she  is  not  living,  I  am  dead." 

The  door  was  moved  slowly  by  a  trembling  hand.  A 
form  appeared. 

"  That's  Annie,"  said  the  old  woman. 

A  face.     The  lips  parted. 

"  Father,  may  I  come  out  and  sit  beside  you  in  the 
chair  at  the  table? " 

The  dog  whirled  around  with  delight. 

"  Annie,  my  own  Annie,  life  of  my  life,  heart  of  my 
heart !  Annie,  how  came  you  here  ? "  exclaimed  the 
farmer. 

"  I  wished  to  see  you,  father,  and  all  of  my  kin  on 
this  day,  and  mother — poor  mother " 

"  Don't  say  that.  I'm  not  worthy  that  you  should  say 
that,  but  my  hard  heart  is  gone,"  faltered  Mis'  Over- 
field. 

"I  got  Albert  to  prepare  the  clock-case  so  I  could 
stand  here  and  move  the  planets  around  so  that  I  could 
see  you  through  the  circles  made  for  the  planets.  You 
can  never  dream  how  I  felt  here.  My  heart  ached 
to  know  if  any  one  to-day  would  think  of  me,  and 
when  you  talked  of  me  my  heart  made  the  old  case 
tremble." 

"  Annie,  come  here,"  said  Farmer  Overfield. 

"But  I  was  not  invited,  father.     I  did  not  intend  to 


DECISIVE  DAY  OP  BROTHER  JONATHAN'S  LIFE    103 

make  myself  known  to  any  one  but  Albert.  I  have  been 
here  before  in  the  disguise  of  a  soldier." 

"  Annie,  you  are  Annie,  if  you  did  marry  a  Tory 
sailor!  "  and  the  family  heart  was  obe  again. 

The  story  illustrates  the  family  feeling  of  the  time 
both  as  regards  patriots  and  Tories. 


CHAPTER   YII 

WASHINGTON    SPEAKS    A    NAME    WHICH    NAMES    THE    REPUBLIC 

When  Washington  was  at  Cambridge  his  headquarters 
were  at  the  Craigie  House,  now  known  as  the  "  home  of 
Longfellow,"  as  that  poet  of  the  world's  heart  lived  and 
wrote  there  for  nearly  a  generation.  Go  to  Cambridge, 
my  young  people  who  visit  Boston,  and  you  may  see 
the  past  of  the  Revolutionary  days  there,  if  you  will  close 
your  eyes  to  the  present.  The  old  tree  is  there  under 
which  Washington  took  command  of  the  army;  a  memo- 
rial stone  with  an  inscription  marks  the  place.  The  old 
buildings  of  Harvard  College  are  there  much  as  they 
were  in  Washington's  days.  The  Episcopal  church  where 
Washington  worshiped  still  stands,  and  one  may  sit  down 
in  the  pew  that  the  general-in-ehief  occupied  as  in  the 
Old  l^orth  Church,  Boston. 

The  tree  under  which  Washington  took  command  of 
the  army  is  decayed  and  is  rapidly  falling  away.  It  was 
once  a  magnificent  elm,  and  Washington  caused  a  lookout 
to  be  made  in  the  top,  which  overlooked  Boston  and  the 
British  defenses.  We  can  easily  imagine  him  with  his 
glass,  hidden  among  the  green  boughs  of  this  lofty  and 
bowery  tree,  watching  the  movements  of  the  enemy. 
104 


WASHINGTON  SPEAKS  A  NAME  105 

Such  an  incident  of  the  Revolution  would  seem  to  in- 
vite a  national  picture  like  one  of  young  John  Trum- 
bull's. 

Washington  held  his  councils  of  war  at  the  Craigie 
House.  It  was  doubtless  from  there  that  he  sent  his 
courier  flying  to  Jonathan  Trumbull  for  help.  His  mes- 
sage was  that  the  army  must  have  food. 

It  was  then  that  the  Connecticut  Governor  called  to- 
gether the  Committee  of  Public  Safety  and  sent  his  men 
of  the  secret  service  into  the  farm-ways  of  Connecticut 
and  gathered  cattle  and  stores  from  the  farms,  and  for- 
warded the  supplies  on  their  way  to  Boston,  and  Dennis 
O'Hay  went  with  them. 

Boston  was  to  be  evacuated.  "Where  were  the  British 
going?     What  was  next  to  be  done? 

Washington  called  a  council  of  his  generals,  and  they 
deliberated  the  question  of  the  hour. 

The  help  that  had  given  strength  to  the  army  invest- 
ing Boston  during  the  siege  had  come  from  Connecticut; 
the  great  heart-beat  of  Jonathan  Trumbull  had  sent  the 
British  fleet  out  on  the  sea  and  away  from  Castle  William 
(now  the  water-park  of  South  Boston). 

What  should  be  done  next?  Officer  after  officer  gave 
his  views,  without  conclusion.  The  Brighton  meadows, 
afterward  made  famous  by  the  pen  of  Longfellow,  glim- 
mered in  the  light  of  early  spring  over  which  the  happy 
wings  of  birds  were  rising  in  song.  The  great  trees  rus- 
tled in  the  spring  winds.  The  officers  paced  the  floor. 
What  was  to  be  done  next?  The  officers  waited  for  Wash- 
ington to  speak. 


106  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

He  liad  deliberated,  but  was  not  sure  as  to  the  wisest 
course  to  pursue. 

He  lifted  his  face  at  last,  and  said: 

"  We  will  have  to  consult  Brother  Jonathan." 

The  name  had  been  used  before  in  the  army,  but  not 
in  this  official  way  at  a  council. 

It  was  at  this  council,  or  one  like  this,  that  he  began 
to  impress  the  worth  of  the  judgment  of  the  Connecticut 
Governor  upon  his  generals. 

Washington  had  unconsciously  named  the  republic. 

The  Connecticut  Governor's  home  name  began  to  rise 
to  fame. 

These  officers  repeated  it  to  others. 

Dennis  O'Hay  heard  it.  He  was  told  that  Washing- 
ton had  spoken  it,  probably  at  a  council  in  the  Craigie 
House,  possibly  at  some  out-of-door  consultation.  How- 
ever this  may  be,  the  word  had  passed  from  the  lips  of  the 
man  of  destiny. 

"  Cracky,"  said  Dennis,  using  the  Yankee  term  of 
resolution,  "  and  I  will  fly  back  to  Connecticut,  I  will, 
on  the  wings  of  me  horse,  and  I  will,  and  tell  the  Gov- 
ernor of  that,  and  I  will,  and  all  the  people  on  the  green, 
and  I  will,  and  set  the  children  to  clapping  their  hands, 
and  the  birds  all  a-singing  in  the  green  tree-tops,  and 
I  will." 

Dennis  leaped  on  his  horse  as  with  wings.  He  slapped 
the  horse's  neck  with  his  bridle-rein  and  flew  down  the 
turnpike  to  Norwich,  and  did  not  so  much  as  stop  to 
rest  at  the  Plainfield  Tavern.  That  horse  had  the  swift- 
ness of  wings,  and  Dennis  seemed  to  be  a  kind  of  centaur. 


WASHINGTON  SPEAKS  A  NAME  107 

The  people  saw  him  coming,  and  swung  their  hats, 
but  only  to  say,  "Who  passed  with  the  wind?" 

The  people  of  the  cedars  saw  him  coming  up  the  hill 
and  gathered  on  the  green  to  ask: 

"What  is  it,  Dennis?" 

"Great  news!     Great  news!  " 

It  was  a  day  at  the  brightening  of  spring  among  the 
cedars.  The  people  of  the  country  around  had  heard  of 
Dennis's  return  and  they  gathered  upon  the  green,  which 
was  growing  green.  The  buds  on  the  trees  were  swelling, 
the  blue  air  was  brightening,  and  nature  was  budding 
and  seemed  everywhere  to  be  singing  in  the  songs  of 
birds. 

All  the  world  was  full  of  joy,  as  the  people  gath- 
ered that  day  on  the  green.  The  Governor  came  out 
of  his  war  office  to  hear  Dennis  speak;  the  schools  were 
there,  and  William  Williams,  afterward  a  signer  of  the 
Declaration  of  Independence,  honored  the  occasion  with 
his  presence. 

Williams  stood  beside  the  Whig  Governor  under  the 
glowing  trees. 

Dennis  came  out  on  the  green,  full  of  honorable 
pride. 

His  first  words  were  characteristic: 

"  Oh,  all  ye  people,  all  of  the  cedars,  you  well  may 
gather  together — now.  Hear  ye,  hear  ye,  hear  ye,  for  it 
is  good  news  that  I  bring  to  ye  all.  Boston  has  fallen; 
it  has  tumbled  into  our  hands,  and  Castle  William  has 
gone  down  into  the  sea,  to  the  Britisher,  and  the  same 
will  never  play  Yankee  Doodle  there  any  more. 


108  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"  Oh,  but  you  should  have  seen  him,  as  your  brothers 
and  I  did — General  Washington.  He  looked  as  though 
he  had  been  born  to  lead  the  world.  And  what  did  he 
call  our  Governor — now,  that  is  what  I  am  bursting  to 
tell  you — what  did  he  call  our  Governor? " 

"  The  first  patriot  in  America,"  answered  a  merry 
farmer. 

"  l!^ot  that,  now,  but  something  better  than  that. 
Hear  ye,  open  the  mouths  of  your  ears,  now,  and  pre- 
pare to  shout;  all  shout.  He  called — so  the  officers  all 
say — he  called  him  what  you  call  him  now.  Colonel? 
1^0,  no;  not  that.  Judge?  No,  no;  not  that.  Governor? 
No,  no;  not  that.  He  called  him  what  the  heroes  here 
who  ran  from  the  fields  with  their  guns  call  him;  what 
the  good  wives  all  call  him;  what  the  old  men  call  him; 
what  the  children  call  him;  what  the  dogs,  cats,  and 
all  the  birds  call  him;  no,  no;  not  that,  but  all  nature 
here  catches  the  spirit  of  what  we  called  him.  He  called 
him  Brother  Jonathan!  Shout,  boys!  Shout,  girls! 
Shout,  old  men!  Shout  all!  The  world  will  call  him 
that  some  day.  My  soul  prophesies  that.  Shout,  shout, 
shout!  with  the  rising  sun  over  the  cedars — all  shout  for 
the  long  life  and  happiness  of  Brother  Jonathan!  " 

Lebanon  shouted,  and  birds  flew  up  from  the  trees 
and  clapped  their  wings,  and  the  modest  old  Governor 
said: 

"  I  love  the  soul  of  the  man  who  delights  to  bring 
the  people  good  news.  I  wrote  to  Washington,  when  he 
took  command  of  the  army  at  Cambridge,  these  words: 

" '  Be  strong  and  very  courageous.    May  the  God  of 


WASHINGTON  SPEAKS  A  NAME  109 

the  armies  of  Israel  shower  down  his  blessings  upon  you; 
may  he  give  you  wisdom  and  fortitude;  may  he  cover 
your  head  in  the  day  of  battle,  and  convince  our  enemies 
of  their  mistake  in  attempting  to  deprive  us  of  our  lib- 
erties/ And,  my  neighbors,  what  did  he  answer  me  ?  He 
wrote  to  me,  saying:  '  My  confidence  is  in  Almighty  God.' 
So  we  are  brothers.  And  my  neighbor  Dennis  brings  good 
tidings  of  joy  out  of  his  great  heart.  His  heart  is  ours. 
What  will  we  do  for  such  a  man  as  Dennis  O'Hay? " 

"  Make  him  an  ensign,  the  ensign  of  the  alarm-post," 
said  one. 

So  Dennis  O'Hay  became  known  as  Ensign  Dennis 
O'Hay. 

The  Governor  saw  that  in  Dennis  he  had  a  messenger 
to  send  out  on  horses  with  wings,  to  bring  back  to  Leb- 
anon green  the  tidings  of  the  events  of  the  war. 

The  old  Governor  turned  aside  when  the  shouting  was 
over. 

"Dennis?" 

"Your  Honor?" 

"  You  have  been  by  the  cabin  of  old  Wetmore,  the 
wood-chopper  of  the  lane." 

"  Yes,  your  Honor." 

"  Well,  I  am  afraid  that  the  old  man  is  a  Tory.  You 
have  heard  how  he  turned  tall  Peter,  his  nephew,  out  of 
doors?  He  said  to  the  boy:  'Out  you  go!'  The  boy 
came  to  me ;  my  mind  is  taken  up  by  the  correspondences, 
so  I  made  him  my  clerk.  I  want  you  to  put  your  arms 
around  him — for  me." 

"Why  did  the  old  man  say  to  the  boy  that?" 


110  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"The  boy  rejoiced  over  the  Concord  fight — ^you  see! 
Put  your  arms  around  him.  I  want  you  two  should  be 
friends." 

"  I  will  put  my  arms  around  him,  for  your  sake  and 
for  the  sake  of  Dennis  O'Hay.  He  shall  be  my  heart's 
own." 

Peter  had  found  friends — hearts. 

He  used  to  think  of  his  old  uncle  as  he  slept  under  the 
cedars  out  of  doors,  on  guard  after  his  duties  in  the  store, 
amid  the  fireflies,  the  night  animals  and  birds. 

He  would  seem  to  hear  the  old  wood-chopper  counting: 

"  One— 

"  Two— 

"Three!" 

He  would  wonder  if  the  old  man  were  counting  for 
him,  or  if  that  which  was  counted  would  go  to  the  King. 
If  the  patriots  won  their  cause,  the  counted  gold,  if  such 
it  were,  could  not  go  to  the  King.  What  were  the  old 
man's  thoughts  and  purposes  when  he  counted  nights? 

At  the  corner  of  the  Trumbull  house,  overlooking  the 
hills  and  roads  in  the  country  of  the  cedars,  was  a  passage- 
way that  connected  with  the  high  roof.  From  this  pas- 
sageway the  approach  of  an  enemy  could  be  signaled  by 
a  guard,  and  there  was  no  point  in  the  movements  of  the 
army  more  important  than  this. 

Governor  Trumbull  became  recognized  as  a  power 
that  stood  behind  the  American  armies.  Lebanon  of  the 
cedars  was  the  secret  capital  of  the  colonies.  Here  gath- 
ered the  reserves  of  the  war. 

The  common  enemy  everywhere  began  to  plot  against 


WASHINGTON  SPEAKS  A  NAME  111 

the  iron  Governor.    Spies  continued  to  come  to  Lebanon  in 
many  disguises  and  went  away. 

The  people  of  Lebanon  warned  the  Governor  against 
these  plots  and  spies,  but  he  believed  in  Providence;  that 
some  good  angel  of  protection  attended  him.  When  they 
told  him  that  his  life  was  in  constant  peril,  he  would 
say,  like  one  who  commanded  hosts  invisible,  that  "  the 
angel  of  the  Lord  encampeth  round  about  them  that  fear 
him." 

Dennis  was  in  terror  when  he  came  to  see  the  Gov- 
ernor's danger.  He  had  a  bed  in  the  garret,  or  "cock- 
loft," overlooking  the  cedars.  From  his  room  he  watched 
the  roads  that  led  up  to  the  hill. 

One  day  some  men  of  mystery  came  to  the  war  office 
on  horseback.  Dennis  saw  them  coming,  from  the  garret 
or  upper  room.  He  hastened  to  the  Governor  at  the 
war  office,  and  gave  the  alarm.  The  men  had  their  story, 
but  Dennis  saw  that  they  were  spies,  and  thought  that 
they  intended  to  return  again. 

Dennis  had  gained  the  confidence  of  the  Governor 
and  of  the  good  man's  family  perfectly  now.  He  had 
become  a  shadow  of  the  Governor,  as  it  were. 

After  these  mysterious  men  went  away,  the  Governor 
called  Dennis  into  his  war  office,  and  said: 

"Dennis,  you  know  a  tremendous  secret,  and  you 
warned  me  against  these  men.  Why  do  you  suspect 
them?" 

"  Because  a  conniving  man  carries  an  air  of  suspicion 
about  him,  your  Honor.  I  can  see  it;  I  have  second 
sight;  some  folks  have,  your  Honor." 


112  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"  Dennis,  you  may  be  right.  A  pure  heart  sees  clear, 
and  you  are  an  honest  man,  else  there  are  none.  "Why 
do  you  think  these  men  came?  What  was  their  hidden 
motive  ? " 

"  To  find  out  where  you  hid  your  powder,  your  Honor. 
They  are  powder  finders.  In  powder  lies  the  hope  of  the 
cause.  Governor.  I  have  a  thing  on  my  mind,  if  I  have 
a  mind." 

"Well,  Dennis,  what  have  you  on  your  mind?" 

"  There  must  be  a  military  alarm-post  in  the  cedars. 
It  must  be  connected  with  hiding-places  all  along  the  way 
from  Putnam  to  !N^orwich.  And  it  is  a  man  that  you 
can  trust  that  you  must  set  in  charge  of  the  same  alarm- 
post.     As  you  said,  I  do  know  a  tremendous  secret." 

"You  are  a  man  that  I  can  trust,  Dennis;  if  not, 
who?" 

"  Your  Honor,"  said  Dennis,  bowing. 

"  Your  heart  is  as  true  to  liberty  as  that  of  Washing- 
ton himself.  To  be  true-hearted  is  the  greatest  thing 
in  the  world;  hearts  are  more  than  rank." 

"  Your  Honor,"  said  Dennis,  bowing  again  lower, 
"  I  would  rather  hear  you  say  that  than  be  a  king." 

"  Good,  Dennis.  Samuel  Adams  replied  to  the  agent 
of  General  Gage  who  said  to  him,  '  It  is  time  for  you  to 
make  your  peace  with  the  King,'  and  who  then  offered 
him  bribes :  '  I  trust  that  I  have  long  ago  made  my  peace 
with  the  King  of  kings,  and  no  power  on  earth  shall 
make  me  recreant  to  my  duties  to  my  country.'  " 

"  Samuel  Adams  is  a  glorious  man,  your  Honor,  and 
has  a  heart  true  to  your  own.     I  would  die  for  liberty. 


WASHINGTON  SPEAKS  A  NAME  113 

and  be  willing  to  be  forgotten  for  the  cause.  What 
matters  what  becomes  of  Dennis  O'Hay — but  the  cause, 
the  cause!  " 

"  Then,  Dennis,  you  are  the  one  of  all  others  to  take 
charge  of  the  alarm-post  that  you  propose  to  establish 
permanently."  Many  are  willing  to  die  in  a  cause  that 
would  not  be  willing  to  be  forgotten,  the  old  man  thought, 
and  walked  about  with  his  hands  behind  him. 

"Forgotten,  Dennis,  what  is  it  to  be  forgotten?  The 
winds  of  the  desert  blow  over  the  Persepolis,  but  where 
is  the  Persepolis?  Babylon,  where  are  thy  sixty  miles  of 
walls,  and  the  chariots  that  rolled  on  their  lofty  ways? 
Gone  with  the  wind.  Egypt,  where  are  all  the  kings  that 
raised  thy  pyramids?  Gone  with  the  wind.  Solomon, 
where  is  thy  throne  of  the  gold  and  gems  of  the  Ind? 
Gone  with  the  wind.  We  all  shall  be  forgotten,  or  only 
live  in  the  good  that  we  do.  I  like  that  word  which  you 
spoke,  willing  to  be  forgotten  for  the  welfare  of  man- 
kind. Dennis,  I  would  be  willing  to  be  forgotten.  I  live 
for  the  cause.  I  seek  neither  money  nor  fame,  but  only 
to  do  the  will  of  the  everlasting  God,  to  which  I  sur- 
render all.  To  live  for  good  influence  is  the  whole  of 
life.  Soul  value  is  everything.  How  will  you  establish 
the  alarm-post? " 

"  I  will  watch  the  roads  from  the  top  of  the  second 
stairs  as  I  have  done  before.  I  will  have  trusty  men  in 
the  cedars  who  will  set  up  signal  lights  at  night.  One 
of  these  men  shall  live  in  the  rocks  so  that  he  may  guard 
the  place  where  the  powder  is  stored.  He  shall  ride  a 
swift  horse,  and  set  up  fire-signals  at  night.     The  secret 


114  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

shall  be  known  to  but  few,  if  you  will  trust  it  to  me 
to  pick  my  men.  And  Peter — nimble  Peter — ^your  trusty 
clerk — ^who  was  sent  out — he  shall  be  my  heart's  own." 

"  I  leave  it  all  to  you,  Dennis.  Establish  the  alarm- 
post.  Select  you  hidden  men.  As  for  me,  I  believe  like 
the  men  in  the  camp  of  the  Hebrews,  in  helpers  invisible. 
An  angel  stayed  the  hand  of  Abraham,  and  went  before 
the  tribes  on  their  march  out  of  Egypt,  and  led  the  feet 
of  Abraham's  servant  to  find  Rebecca;  and  when  the 
young  king  was  afraid  to  encounter  so  great  a  host,  the 
prophet  opened  his  spiritual  eyes,  and  lo!  the  mountain 
was  full  of  chariots  and  horsemen.  The  angel  of  Provi- 
dence protects  me;  I  know  it,  I  feel  it;  it  is  my  mission 
to  reenforce  the  American  army  when  it  is  in  straits. 
Faith  walks  with  the  heavens,  and  I  live  by  faith." 

Dennis  went  out.  He  felt  free,  like  one  commis- 
sioned by  a  higher  power.  Yes,  he  did  know  a  tremen- 
dous secret.    He  knew  where  the  powder  was  hidden. 

When  he  had  come  to  share  with  the  Governor  the 
secrets  of  collecting  saltpeter  and  powder,  he  learned  all 
the  ways  of  this  secret  service.  There  must  be  found  a 
place  where  this  powder  could  be  hidden,  so  as  to  be 
safely  guarded.     It  was  a  necessity. 

Lebanon  abounded  in  rocky  hills  in  which  were  caves. 
These  caves  could  be  guarded,  and  yet  they  would  not 
be  secure  against  spies.  Dennis  began  to  put  his  Irish 
wits  at  work  to  devise  a  way  to  protect  a  storage  of 
powder  against  spies. 

The  tall,  nimble  boy  who  had  been  in  the  service  of 
William  Williams   came   first   into   Dennis's   mind   and 


WASHINGTON  SPEAKS  A  NAME  115 

heart.  Mr.  Williams,  for  whom  the  boy  had  kept  sheep, 
was  a  graduate  of  Harvard  College,  and  had  been  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Committee  of  Correspondence  for  the  Union 
and  Safety  of  the  Colonies.  This  man  had  written  sev- 
eral pamphlets  to  awaken  the  spirit  of  the  colonies  to 
resist  aggression,  and  the  nimble  boy  to  whom  we  have 
referred,  now  the  clerk,  had  listened  at  doors  to  the  read- 
ing of  these  pamphlets,  and  drank  in  the  spirit  of  them 
until  he  had  become  so  full  of  patriotic  feeling  that  he 
thought  of  little  but  the  cause. 

Dennis's  intuitive  eye  fixed  itself  upon  this  boy  for 
secret  service. 

"Peter  Nimble,"  said  Dennis  to  the  young  farm- 
hand one  day,  as  the  latter  was  resting  under  the  trees 
after  the  planting  of  pumpkin-seeds  among  the  corn,  while 
the  sheep  grazed,  "  I  have  come  over  here  to  have  a 
secret  talk  with  you.  I  have  long  had  my  eye  on  you. 
You  are  full  of  the  new  fire;  you  see  things  quick;  you 
have  long  legs,  and  you  are  all  brain,  heart,  and  legs. 
You  are  just  the  lad  I  want." 

"For  what,  Dennis?" 

"  For  the  secret  service.  Will  you  promise  me  never 
to  tell  what  I  am  about  to  tell  you  now? " 

"itfever,  Dennis." 

"Though  the  sky  fall?" 

"  Though  the  sky  fall,  and  the  earth  cave  in,  and  the 
waters  cover  the  land.  Never,  Dennis,  if  it  be  for  the 
cause." 

"It  is  for  the  cause,  Peter.  Hark  ye,  boy.  We 
must  store  powder  here.    Powder  is  the  life  of  the  war. 


116  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

We  must  store  it  in  a  cave,  and  we  must  have  some  one 
to  guard  the  cave,  and  to  give  an  alarm  if  spies  shall 
come." 

"  I  can  run,"  said  Peter. 

"  Yes,  Peter,  you  can  run,  and  run  the  right  way, 
too.  You  will  never  turn  your  heels  against  the  country. 
You  can  outrun  all  the  boys.  But  it  is  not  for  your 
heels  that  I  come  to  you.  I  want  a  guard  with  nimble 
thoughts  as  well  as  legs.  You  could  run  to  me  quickly 
by  day,  as  on  feet  of  air,  but  it  is  for  the  night  that  I 
want  you;  for  a  curious  service,  a  queer  service." 

"What  would  you  have  me  do?" 

"Hold  a  window  before  your  face,  with  a  light  in 
the  window,  and  stand  back  by  the  roadside  in  the 
cedars." 

"  That  would  be  a  strange  thing  for  me  to  do,  Dennis. 
How  would  that  help  the  cause  ? " 

"  You  know  all  the  people  of  the  town.  You  would 
know  a  stranger  to  be  a  stranger.  Now,  no  stranger 
can  pass  down  the  turnpike  at  night  without  a  passport. 
If  he  does,  he  is  an  enemy  or  a  spy. 

"  You  are  to  stand  behind  the  lighted  window  at  night 
back  in  the  cedars,  some  distance  from  the  road.  If 
you  see  a  stranger  coming  down  the  road  at  night,  or 
hear  him,  you  are  to  leave  the  window  and  light  on 
a  post  and  demand  his  passport.  The  window  and  light 
at  a  distance  will  look  like  a  house.  If  the  traveler  have 
no  passport,  you  must  ask  him  to  follow  you  at  a  dis- 
tance toward  the  light  in  the  window.  Hear :  '  at  a  dis- 
tance.' 


WASHINGTON  SPEAKS  A  NAME  117 

"  Then  you  are  to  take  the  window  and  the  light  and 
move  up  the  hill,  by  the  brook  ways,  so  that  I  can  see 
the  light  at  the  alarm-post.  Then  you  may  put  out  the 
light,  and  run  for  the  war  office :  run  like  the  wind.  That 
will  detain  the  spy,  should  he  be  one,  and  we  will  be 
warned  and  thwart  his  design.     Do  you  see  ?  " 

"  I  see,  but  am  I  to  be  stationed  near  a  cave  where 
the  powder  is  hidden?  " 

"No — tish,  tish — but  at  a  place  that  would  turn  a 
night  traveler  from  the  place  where  the  powder  is  con- 
cealed. You  yourself  are  not  to  know,  or  to  seek  to 
know,  where  the  powder  is  hidden.  No,  no — tish,  tish. 
If  you  were  to  be  overpowered,  you  must  be  able  to 
say  that  you  do  not  know  where  the  saltpeter  is.  Tish, 
tish!  " 

"  That  is  a  strange  service,  Dennis,  but  I  will  do  as 
you  say.  I  will  watch  by  the  window  in  the  heat  and 
cold,  in  the  rain  and  snow,  and  I  will  never  desert  my 
post." 

"  That  you  will,  my  boy.  The  true  heart  never  de- 
serts its  post.  You  may  save  an  army  by  this  strange 
service.  You  are  no  longer  to  be  Peter  Nimble,  but  a 
window  in  the  cedars.  Ah,  Peter,  Peter,  not  in  vain 
did  the  old  man  send  you  out.  Boy,  the  Governor  likes 
you,  and  you  are  my  heart's  own!  " 

"  But  I  will  have  to  give  up  my  place  in  the  store  ? " 

"  I  will  talk  with  the  Governor  about  that." 

One  day  Dennis  O'Hay  stood  by  the  high  window, 
looking  down  the  turnpike  road.  A  horseman  seemed 
to  leap  on  his  flying  steed  into  the  way.    Dennis  ran  down 


118  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

the  stairs  to  give  an  alarm,  and  found  the  Governor  in 
the  great  room,  thinking  as  always. 

"  A  man  is  coming  on  horseback,  riding  like  mad. 
He  looks  like  a  general." 

"  Spencer — I  am  expecting  him — I  sent  for  him.  Sit 
down;  your  presence  may  make  a  clearer  atmosphere." 

Dennis  did  not  comprehend  the  Governor,  but  his 
curiosity  was  excited,  and  he  sat  down  by  the  stair- 
way. 

A  horse  dashed  up  to  the  door.  A  man  in  uniform 
knocked,  and  entered  with  little  ceremony. 

"  Governor,  I  am  dishonored.  Let  me  say  at  once 
that  I  am  about  to  resign  my  commission  in  the  army." 

"  You  have  been  superseded  by  General  Putnam." 

"  Yes;  I  who  offered  my  life  and  all  in  the  north  in 
the  service  of  my  country,  have  been  superseded.  Con- 
gress little  esteems  such  service  as  mine.  Governor,  I 
am  undone." 

"  General  Spencer,  Congress  is  seeking  to  place  the 
best  leaders  in  the  field.  It  has  done  so  now.  It  has  not 
dishonored  you;  it  honors  you;  it  wants  your  service 
under  Putnam." 

"  Under !  You  may  well  say  under.  Would  you,  with 
a  record  like  mine,  serve  under  any  man?" 

"I  would.  My  only  thought  is  for  the  good  of  the 
people  and  the  success  of  the  cause.  I  have  given  up 
making  money,  for  the  cause.  I  have  given  up  seeking 
position  of  popularity,  for  the  cause.  I  am  seeking  to 
be  neither  a  general,  nor  a  congressman,  nor  a  diplomat, 
for  the  cause.     Whatever  a  man  be  or  have,  his  influ- 


WASHINGTON  SPEAKS  A  NAME  119 

ence  is  all  that  lie  is.  I  would  do  anything  that  would 
tend  to  make  my  influence  powerful  for  the  cause.  I 
have  snuffed  out  ambition,  for  the  cause." 

General  Spencer  dropped  his  hands  on  his  knees. 

"  Governor  Trumbull,  what  would  you  have  me 
do?" 

"  Serve  your  country  under  Putnam — as  Congress 
wills — and  never  hinder  the  cause  by  any  personal  con- 
sideration.    Be  the  cause." 

"Governor,  I  will;  for  your  sake,  I  will.  I  see  my 
way  clear.  I  was  not  myself  when  I  came — I  am  myself 
now." 

"  Not  for  my  sake.  General,  but  for  the  cause ! " 

Dennis  had  seen  the  Governor's  soul.  Giant  that  he 
was,  tears  ran  down  his  face.  He  went  out  into  the 
open  air. 

It  was  evening  at  Lebanon.  He  looked  up  to  the  hills 
and  saw  the  clerk,  who  had  again  become  a  shepherd-boy, 
there  in  the  dusk  guiding  the  sheep  to  sheltered  pastures 
among  the  savins. 

Dennis  was  lonesome  for  companionship.  He  was  but 
a  common  laborer,  with  no  family  or  fortune,  nothing  but 
his  honest  soul. 

He  longed  to  talk  with  one  like  himself.  He  walked 
up  the  hills,  and  hailed  the  shepherd-boy,  who  had  become 
a  guard  in  the  new  secret  service, 

"Nimble,"  he  said,  "you  believe  in  the  Governor, 
don't  you?    I  do,  more  and  more." 

"  'Fore  the  Lord,  I  do,"  said  the  shepherd  in  an  awe- 
some tone. 
9 


120  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"  I  have  just  seen  the  soul  of  that  man.  He  is  more 
of  a  god  than  a  man.  But,  Nimble,  Nimble,  my  heart's 
own  boy,  he  is  surrounded  more  and  more  by  spies,  and 
think  of  it,  wagons  of  powder  are  coming  here  and  going 
away.     What  havoc  a  spy  could  make ! 

"  Boy,  my  heart  goes  out  to  that  man.  I  would  die 
for  him.  So  would  you.  I  am  going  to  act  as  a  guard 
for  him,  not  only  openly — I  do  that  now — but  secretly. 
You  will  act  with  me." 

"  Yes,  yes,  Dennis.     But  what  more  can  I  do  ? " 

"  Keep  your  eyes  open  on  the  hills  against  surprise, 
and  guard  the  magazines." 

"  That  I  am  doing,  but  where  are  the  magazines  ? " 

"  Where  are  the  magazines?  " 

"  Oh,  boy,  boy,  do  not  seek  to  know.  Tish,  tish ! 
Have  an  eye  on  the  covered  ways  that  are  still.  You 
watch  nights  by  the  window  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  can  watch  days." 

The  sheep  lay  down  in  the  sheltered  ways  of  the  high 
hill,  and  the  two  talked  together  as  brothers.  They  had 
become  a  part  of  the  cause. 

And  Dennis  found  in  his  heart  a  new  and  unexpected 
delight.  It  was  when  he  said  to  the  shepherd-boy  of  the 
green  cedars,  as  he  did  almost  daily,  "  You  are  my  heart's 
own;  we  serve  one  cause,  and  look  for  nothing  more!  " 

So  these  two  patriots  became  to  Brother  Jonathan 
"  helpers  invisible." 

The  Governor  now  hurried  levies.  Lebanon  was  a 
scene  of  excitement.  Connecticut  forgot  her  own  perils, 
for  the  greater  need. 


WASHINGTON  SPEAKS  A  NAME  121 

Dennis  was  ordered  away  with  the  men.  He  was  to 
drive  a  powder-wagon.  The  young  shepherd  was  to  leave 
for  a  time  his  place  as  a  watchman  and  to  go  with  him. 

In  the  midst  of  these  preparations  a  beautiful,  anxious 
face  flitted  to  and  fro.    It  was  that  of  Madam  Trumbull. 

"  You  must  not  go,"  said  she  to  Dennis.  "  We  need 
you  here." 

"Who?" 

"I — spies  swarm;  the  Governor  is  all  of  the  time  in. 
peril.    I  can  trust  your  heart." 

"  He  must  go,"  said  the  Governor.  "  The  powder- 
wagon  needs  him  more  than  I  do.  I  shall  be  guarded. 
I  can  hear  the  wings;  the  rocks  of  Lebanon  are  not 
firmer  than  my  faith.  Powder  is  the  battle.  Go,  Dennis, 
go.  Our  powder  told  at  Bunker  Hill;  they  will  need  it 
again." 

Dennis  and  the  shepherd-boy  went,  guarding  the 
powder. 

"  Good-by,  Governor,"  said  Dennis.  "  We  leave  the 
heavens  behind  us  still." 

What  a  time  that  was!  Every  Whig  forgot  his  own 
self  and  interests  in  the  cause.  No  one  looked  for  any 
pay  for  anything.  The  cattle,  the  sheep,  the  corn  and 
grain,  all  belonged  to  the  cause.  Everything  followed  the 
suggestion  of  the  great  Governor's  heart. 

Tories  and  spies  came  to  Lebanon  with  plots  in  their 
hearts,  but  they  went  away  again.  Ships  down  the  river 
landed  men,  who  came  to  Lebanon  with  evil  intents;  but 
they  looked  at  the  Governor  from  the  tavern  window, 
as  he  crossed  the  green,  and  went  away  again. 


122  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

The  school  for  the  training  of  Indian  missionaries, 
that  had  been  founded  in  Lebanon  and  that  had  trained 
Occum,  who  became  the  marvelous  Indian  preacher,  had 
been  removed  to  a  log-house  college  on  the  upper  Con- 
necticut now,  where  it  was  to  become  Dartmouth  College. 
But  Indians  still  came  to  the  green,  and  heard  the  can- 
non thunder  with  wonder. 

The  Governor's  house,  the  alarm-post,  was  to  become 
the  head  of  a  long  line  of  signal-stations. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

PETER   NIMBLE    AND   DENNIS    IN    THE    ALAEM-POST 

Peter,  after  being  entrusted  with  Dennis's  secret  of 
the  hidden  powder,  walked  about  like  one  whose  head  was 
in  the  air.  If  he  stuck  pumpkin-seeds  into  corn-hills,  he 
did  so  with  a  machine-like  motion.  He  had  listened  to 
the  singing  of  the  birds  in  the  cedars,  but  he  forgot  the 
bird-singing  now;  though  he  loved  rare  wild  flowers,  a 
white  orchid  bloomed  among  the  wintergreens  bj  the  ferny 
brookside,  but  he  did  not  see  it  now;  the  sky,  the  forests, 
and  everything  seemed  to  have  vanished  away. 

He  watched  Dennis  after  their  return  as  the  latter 
came  out  of  the  alarm-post  over  the  way  and  went  to  the 
tavern  or  the  war  office. 

Dennis  for  a  time  merely  bowed  to  him  and  passed 
him  by,  day  by  day,  when  on  duty;  and  the  corn  grew, 
and  the  orioles  flamed  in  the  air.  But  one  thought  held 
him — a  picture  of  the  light  in  the  window  in  the  cedars, 
guarding  some  unknown  cave  that  contained  the  light- 
nings and  the  thunder  of  the  battle-field.  What  would 
come  of  that  service? 

He  at  last  felt  that  he  must  see  Dennis.  He  could 
stand  the  suspense  no  longer. 

128 


124  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

So  one  night  he  crept  up  to  Dennis's  chamber  under 
the  rafters. 

"  I  could  stay  away  from  you  no  longer,  after  what 
you  told  me,"  said  he.  "  Strange  things  are  going  on — 
horsemen  coming  and  going;  queer  people  haunt  the  Col- 
chester road;  knife-grinders,  clock-cleaners,  going  into  the 
forest  to  get  walnut-oil;  men  calling  out  '  Old  brass  to 
mend ';  and  I  seem  to  see  spies  in  them,  and  I  fear  for 
him." 

"  Boy,  I  fear  for  him.  He  is  an  old  man  now,  but 
he  walks  erect,  and  seems  to  think  that  some  host  unseen 
is  guarding  him.  He  wears  the  armor  of  faith.  I  can 
see  it,  other  people  do  not;  and  he  does  not  fear  the 
face  of  clay." 

"  Dennis,  when  are  you  going  to  set  me  behind  the 
window  and  the  light  in  the  cedars,  at  night  ? " 

"  Soon,  boy,  soon.     Let  us  look  out  of  the  window." 

It  was  a  June  night.  Below  them  was  the  war  ofBce, 
the  Alden  Tavern,  the  house  of  William  Williams — the 
boy's  home.  Afar  stretched  the  intervales,  now  full  of 
fireflies  and  glowing  with  the  silvery  light  of  the  half- 
moon.  Night-hawks  made  lively  the  still  air,  and  the 
lonely  notes  of  the  whippoorwills  rang  out  from  the 
cedars  and  savins  in  nature's  own  sad  cadences.  The 
roads  were  full  of  the  odors  of  wild  roses  and  sweetbrier, 
but  were  silent. 

"Dennis,"  said  Peter,  "I  have  been  thinking.  Sup- 
pose I  were  to  watch  in  the  cedars,  and  an  unknown  man 
were  to  come  down  the  open  road  toward  the  light  in  the 
window.     And  suppose  I  were  to  say,  '  Halt,  and  give 


PETER  NIMBLE  AND  DENNIS  IN  THE  ALARM-POST    125 

the  countersign/  and  he  were  to  have  no  countersign. 
Then  I  would  say,  '  Follow  me,  but  do  not  come  near 
me,  or  I  will  discharge  my  duty  upon  you.'  And  sup- 
pose he  were  to  follow,  and  I  move  back,  back,  back  with 
the  window  and  light,  and  he  were  to  think  that  I  were 
a  house,  and  that  I  were  to  draw  him  into  a  trap  and 
lose  him,  and  put  out  the  light  and  run  for  you — what 
would  you  do  then  ?  " 

"  I  would  hunt  for  him  in  the  ravine  where  you  left 
him — in  the  wood  trap — and  would  find  him,  and  wring 
from  him  the  cause  of  his  being  on  the  highway  without 
a  passport." 

"  Dennis,  do  you  think  that  such  a  thing  as  that  will 
ever  happen? " 

"  Yes;  my  instincts  tell  me  that  it  will.  Boy,  there 
is  one  man  whom  Washington  trusts,  whom  the  Governor 
relies  upon,  but  in  whom  I  can  see  a  false  heart.  He  was 
bom  only  a  few  miles  from  here.  He  is  famous.  If  he 
were  to  turn  traitor  to  our  cause,  as  I  believe  he  will, 
he  would  send  spies  to  Lebanon.  He  would  seek  to  de- 
stroy the  hiding-places  of  powder,  and  he  knows  where 
they  are  to  be  found.  Then,  boy,  your  time  to  thwart 
such  designs  would  come." 

"  What  is  that  man's  name  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  dare  to  breathe  it  even  to  you,  with  a  heart 
of  truth." 

"  I  will  never  break  your  confidence.  What  is  the 
name?" 

"Benedict  Arnold!" 

It  now  began  to  be  seen  in  the  army  that  the  Gov- 


126  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

ernor  was  in  peril.  The  Tories  plotted  a  secret  warfare 
against  the  leading  patriots. 

One  day  Governor  Trumbull  met  the  Council  of  Pub- 
lic Safety  with  the  alarming  declaration: 

"  They  have  put  a  price  upon  my  head." 

A  reward  had  been  secretly  offered  for  his  capture. 

"  I  must  have  a  guard,"  he  said,  and  a  guard  was 
granted  him  of  four  sturdy,  loyal  men — a  public  guard, 
who  examined  all  strangers  who  came  by  day  to  Leb- 
anon. 

The  plots  of  the  Tories  filled  the  country  with  alarm. 
One  of  these  plots  was  to  assassinate  Washington.  Others 
were  to  abduct  the  royal  Governors. 

These  plotters  tried  to  seize  Governor  Clinton  of  New 
York,  and  William  Livingston,  the  patriotic  Governor 
of  New  Jersey.  They  did  seize  General  Stillman  at 
Fairfield  and  carried  him  away  as  a  prisoner. 

Lebanon  was  exposed  to  such  incursions  from  the  sea. 
Spy  boats  were  on  the  waters,  and  these  might  land  men 
on  the  highway  to  Lebanon  and  seize  the  Governor  and 
bear  him  away. 

The  biographer  of  Governor  Trumbull  (Stuart)  thus 
relates  an  incident  that  illustrates  the  perils  to  which 
the  Governor  was  exposed: 

"  A  traveler,  in  the  garb  of  a  mendicant — of  exceed- 
ingly suspicious  appearance — came  into  his  house  one 
evening  when  he  was  unwell  and  had  retired  to  bed. 
The  stranger,  though  denied  the  opportunity  of  seeing 
him,  yet  insisted  upon  an  interview  so  pertinaciously  that 
at  last  the  Governor's  wary  housekeeper — Mrs.  Hyde — 


PETER  NIMBLE  AND  DENNIS  IN  THE  ALARM-POST    127 

alarmed  and  disgusted  at  his  conduct,  seized  the  shovel 
and  tongs  from  the  fireplace  and  drove  him  out  of  the 
house.  At  the  same  time  she  called  loudlj  for  the  guard; 
but  the  intruder  suddenly  disappeared,  and,  though  care- 
ful search  was  made,  eluded  pursuit,  and  never  appeared 
in  that  quarter  again." 

One  of  the  reasons  that  made  Lebanon  a  perilous  place 
and  that  invited  plots  and  spies  was  that  magazines  of 
powder  from  the  West  Indies  were  thought  to  be  hidden 
here,  as  well  as  at  New  London  and  along  the  Connect- 
icut main  and  river.  Powder  was  the  necessity  of  the 
war;  to  explode  a  powder  magazine  was  to  retard  the 
cause. 

Lebanon  was  like  a  secret  fortress  to  the  cause.  Pris- 
oners of  war  were  sent  to  Governor  Trumbull.  It  was 
thought  that  they  could  not  be  rescued  here.  But  their 
detention  here  by  the  wise,  firm  Governor  invited  new 
plots.  The  thirteen  colonies  sent  their  State  prisoners 
here.  Among  these  prisoners  was  the  Tory  son  of  Benja- 
min Franklin,  a  disgrace  to  the  great  patriot,  that  led  him 
to  carry  a  heavy  heart  amid  all  of  his  honors  as  the 
ambassador  to  the  French  court.  Dr.  Benjamin  Church, 
a  classmate  of  Trumbull  at  college,  was  sent  to  him  among 
these  prisoners. 

Trumbull  became  universally  hated  by  the  Tories. 
They  saw  in  him  the  silent  captain  of  the  world's  move- 
ment for  liberty.  The  condition  became  so  alarming  that 
in  November,  1779,  Washington  sent  a  message  to  him 
to  seize  all  Tories.  "  They  are  preying  upon  the  vitals 
of   the   country,"   he   said.      The   Continental   Congress 


128  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

demanded  of  him  to  "  arrest  every  person  that  endangered 
the  safety  of  the  colony."  The  condition  that  became 
so  alarming,  then,  was  beginning  now. 

What  a  position  was  that  that  was  held  by  this  brave, 
clear-headed,  conscience-free  man! 

Strangers  were  coming  and  going;  any  one  of  them 
might  have  a  cunning  plot  against  the  Governor  in  his 
heart.  The  way  to  him  was  easy.  Express-wagons  with 
provisions  started  from  Lebanon;  drivers  of  cattle  came 
there;  people  who  had  cases  of  casuistry;  men  desiring 
public  appointment  in  the  army;  peddlers,  wayfarers, 
seamen,  the  captains  of  privateers. 

But  he  walked  among  them — amid  these  accumulating 
perils — as  one  who  had  a  "  guard  invisible."  He  had. 
He  knew  that  his  own  people  were  loyal  to  him,  that 
they  believed  him  as  one  directed  by  the  Supreme 
Power  for  the  supreme  good,  and  that  they  loved  him 
as  a  father. 

Dennis  guarded  the  good  old  man  as  though  he  had 
had  a  commission  from  the  skies  to  do  so.  He  gave  to 
him  the  strength  of  his  great  heart.  He  caused  a  tower 
— "  the  alarm-post " — over  his  head,  one  secret  room,  to 
protect  him — "  a  room  over  the  gate  " — and  the  room 
must  have  seemed  to  the  man  whose  brain  directed  all 
like  the  outstretched  wing  of  a  guardian  divine.  The 
Governor  was  an  old  man  when  the  war  began.  Born 
in  1710,  he  was  at  the  time  of  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence sixty-six  years  old. 

Dennis  was  like  a  guardian  sent  to  him,  and  Peter 
like  a  messenger  sent  to  Dennis.     There  was  something 


ffl 


PETER  NIMBLE  AND  DENNIS  IN  THE  ALARM-POST    129 

in  the  glances  of  each  to  the  other  that  was  out  of  the 
common  of  life — ^it  was  the  cause. 

One  day  there  was  a  shout  in  the  alarm-post. 

A  man  was  riding  up  the  Colchester  road,  dashing, 
as  it  were,  as  if  his  own  body  and  that  of  his  horse  were 
only  agents  of  this  thought.  He  was  an  Irishman.  When 
the  Lexington  alarm  came,  he  had  heard  the  clock  of 
liberty  strike;  his  hour  had  come. 

"A  man  is  coming  like  mad,  riding  with  the  wind," 
said  the  sentinel  in  common  terms. 

The  man  came  rushing  up  to  the  store,  and  drew 
his  rein.     The  Governor  met  him  there. 

"Knox,  your  Honor,  Knox  of  the  artillery.  I  was 
at  Bunker  Hill." 

"  I  knew  you  by  your  good  name,"  said  the  Governor. 
"You  know  how  to  put  your  shoulder  to  the  wheel." 

Knox  of  the  artillery  smiled. 

He  had  won  the  reputation  of  knowing  how  to  put 
his  shoulder  to  the  wheel  in  a  queer  way.  There  was  a 
rivalry  between  the  Northenders  and  Southenders  in 
Boston,  and  both  parties  celebrated  Guy  Fawkes's  day 
with  grotesque  processions,  in  which  were  effigies  of  Guy 
Fawkes  and  the  devil.  In  an  evening  procession  of  the 
party  to  which  young  Knox  belonged  on  Guy  Fawkes's 
day  the  wheel  of  the  wagon  or  float  bearing  an  effigy, 
possibly  of  Guy  Fawkes,  broke,  and  that  the  rival  party 
might  not  know  it  and  ridicule  his  party,  he  said; 

"I  will  put  my  shoulder  to  the  wheel." 

He  did  this,  and  the  float  moved  on,  and  the  pride 
of  his  party  was  saved. 


130  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

Knox  of  the  artillery  had  kept  a  bookstore  in  Boston. 
It  was  like  the  New  Corner  Bookstore  before  the  famous 
Old  Corner  Bookstore.  When  the  war  broke  out  he 
was  attached  to  the  artillery.  There  was  a  great  need 
of  powder,  and  he  had  a  scent  for  it.  He  found  it,  he 
hid  it ;  he  was  the  "  powder-monkey  "  of  the  great  cam- 
paigns. 

Like  Paul  Kevere,  he  caught  the  spirit  of  the  minute- 
men.  He  could  ride  for  liberty!  He  was  riding  for 
liberty  now! 

"  Washington  recommended  you  to  volunteer  for  the 
artillery  service,"  said  the  Governor.  "  I  could  have  no 
more  favorable  introduction  to  you.  You  do  not  ride 
for  nothing,  my  young  friend.  May  I  ask  what  brings 
you  here?    Your  horse  foams." 

"  There  is  no  time  to  be  lost  in  days  like  these,"  said 
the  young  artilleryman.  "  These  are  days  of  destiny,  and 
we  must  make  the  success  of  our  cause  sure.  I  went  to 
Washington  for  permission  to  bring  the  siege-guns  and 
powder  from  Fort  Ticonderoga  to  Boston.  I  have  come 
to  you  for  a  like  reason.  I  am  sure,  in  my  soul,  of 
ultimate  victory;  I  know  it  will  come,  but  preparation 
is  victory.  Boston  is  evacuated,  and  to  defend  New  York 
we  must  protect  the  coast  of  Connecticut.  I  have  con- 
ferred with  Washington,  and  I  must  have  a  word  with 
you." 

"  To  the  tavern  with  the  horse,"  said  the  Governor. 
"Into  the  store,  or  war  office,  as  I  call  my  place  here, 
we  will  go  and  shut  the  weather-door,  and  I  will  answer 
'  Go  '  if  any  call.     We  will  consider  the  matter." 


PETER  NIMBLE  AND  DENNIS  IN  THE  ALARM-POST    131 

They  went  into  the  store  and  the  door  was  shut. 

Without  sighed  the  cedars  in  the  April  or  May  winds. 
It  was  the  coming  of  summer;  the  bright  wings  of  south- 
ern birds  were  blooming  in  the  air.  The  cedars  were 
dressing  in  green,  and  the  elms  flaming  in  the  glowing 
suns  of  the  long  days. 

They  talked,  as  we  may  fancy,  of  the  sons  of  liberty, 
the  siege  of  Boston,  and  the  outlook,  and  here  young 
Knox  gained  strength  to  face  the  strenuous  campaigns 
of  New  York  and  the  Jerseys,  and  to  cause  the  cannon 
of  liberty  to  thunder  as  never  before. 

They  talked  of  Rhode  Island.  Strange  things  were 
happening  there. 

Then  the  Committee  of  Safety  came.  And  they  con- 
sidered the  matter. 

The  Governor  had  a  habit  of  saying,  "  Let  us  con- 
sider the  matter  ";  after  a  time  he  added,  "  and  bring 
it  before  the  council." 

He  walked  about  like  a  visitor  to  the  world.  He  was 
always  "  considering  "  some  matter. 

He  would  stand  before  the  church,  considering;  cross 
the  green,  considering;  the  public  men  who  came  to  visit 
him  usually  found  him  considering. 

Why  had  Knox  come  to  Lebanon? 

It  was  to  talk  of  powder.  How  could  saltpeter  be 
found?    Where  could  it  be  stored? 

There  might  be  a  powder  magazine  at  New  London, 
or  near  it,  or  in  covert  in  a  place  on  the  Connecticut, 
or  right  here  among  the  rocky  caves  of  the  hills.    Where? 

The  Governor  would  "  consider."     He  did,  and  the 


132  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

secret  hiding-places  of  powder  were  known  to  few  be- 
sides him.  The  Governor  knew  the  guards  of  the  maga- 
zines.    So  Connecticut  stored  powder. 

"  Powder,  powder,  ye  gods,  send  us  powder !  "  cried 
General  Putnam  at  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill. 

There  was  a  powder  famine.  The  whole  army  needed 
powder. 

One  day  the  Governor  sat  before  his  door  on  the 
green,  waiting  the  return  of  Dennis.  The  latter  came 
back  from  a  commission  which  he  had  executed  quickly, 
and  dropped  from  his  horse  on  the  green. 

"  You  have  made  short  time,  Dennis." 

"  Yes,  Governor;  I  never  think  of  myself,  but  only 
of  the  cause." 

"  You  may  well  say  that,  and  I  know  it  to  be  true. 
Such  a  spirit  as  that  in  these  testing  times  is  invaluable. 
I  have  a  new  commission  for  you." 

"  Let  me  have  it.  I  will  die  for  it;  I  am  in  for  liberty 
now — ^head,  heart,  and  heels." 

He  sunk  down  on  the  green. 

"  Let  us  consider,"  the  Governor  said;  "  let  us  consider. 
You  have  heard  me  speak  of  Salisbury,  the  hidden  town 
in  the  northwest  corner  of  the  State,  on  the  Housatonic. 
The  world  knows  little  of  that  town,  but  it  hears  much. 
There  has  been  a  foundry  there  since  '62.  I  am  going 
to  make  an  arsenal  there,  and  manufacture  guns  there, 
and  make  it  a  powder-post.  I  must  have  post-riders  who 
can  lead  teamsters  and  who  can  be  trusted,  and  move 
quickly,  to  go  from  Lebanon  green-  to  Salisbury  with  my 
orders.     No  spot  in  America  can  be  made  more  useful 


PETER  NIMBLE  AND  DENNIS  IN  THE  ALARM-POST    133 

to  our  army  than  this.  I  am  going  to  appoint  you  as 
an  officer  for  this  business,  as  a  special  messenger  to 
Salisbury  in  the  secret  service. 

"  Dennis,  no  one  can  do  so  much  as  when  he  is  doing 
many  things.  When  I  am  doing  two  things  well,  I  can 
do  three.  I  never  undertake  anything  that  I  can  not  do 
well,  but  experience  enables  us  to  do  many  things  well, 
as  you  are  learning  yourself,  Dennis  O'Hay." 

Dennis  bowed. 

Salisbury  was  a  hidden  place,  but  rich  in  nature.  It 
was  a  place  of  iron-mines,  with  limestone  and  granite  at 
the  foot  of  the  mountains.  Here  the  United  States  be- 
gan to  cast  cannon  and  gather  saltpeter.  The  works 
grew.  Cannon-balls,  bombs,  shells,  grape-shot,  anchors, 
hand-grenades,  swivels,  mess-pots  and  kettles,  all  imple- 
ments of  war  were  made  and  stored  here.  The  arma- 
ments of  ships  were  furnished  here  by  skilled  hands.  Here 
the  furnaces  blazed  night  and  day.  Here  the  ore-diggers, 
founders,  molders,  and  guards  were  constantly  at  work. 
There  came  here  an  army  of  teamsters  for  transportation. 
The  Governor  wished  one  whom  he  could  trust  to  bear  his 
orders  to  this  town  hidden  among  the  mountains,  and 
Dennis  was  such  a  man.  Dennis  could  be  spared,  as  there 
was  a  regular  guard  at  the  alarm-post  now,  and  the  church 
afforded  it  a  shelter. 

The  reader  who  makes  a  pilgrimage  to  Lebanon  to 
visit  the  "  war  office  "  should  note  the  old  church  and 
recall  the  habits  of  a  stately  past,  when  men  lived  less  for 
money-making  and  more  for  the  things  that  live. 

The  solemn  bell  rings  out  as  of  old,  but  it  is  over  the 


134  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

graves  of  people  who  were  the  empire  builders,  but  who 
knew  it  not  except  by  faith.  The  gray  stones  are  crum- 
bling where  they  lie.  The  engine-whistle  sounds  afar, 
and  Willimantic  reflects  the  life  of  new  times.  Here  New 
England  of  old  lives  on — apart  from  the  hurrying  world 
of  steam  and  electricity. 

The  great  cedars  are  gone,  though  cedar  swamps  are 
near.  Night  settles  down  over  all  in  silence,  and  one 
feels  here  that  this  is  a  lonely  world. 

The  lights  have  gone  out  in  the  old  Alden  Tavern, 
and  the  tavern  itself  is  gone,  but  nature  here  is  beautiful 
among  the  hills,  and  to  the  susceptible  eye  the  hills  are 
touched  by  the  spirit  of  the  patriots  of  old. 


CHAPTEE   IX 

A    MAN    WITH    A    CANE "  OFF    WITH    YOUK    HAT  " 

Denihs  O'Hay,  who  had  created  for  the  cause  the 
alarm-post  in  the  cedars,  learned  all  the  ways  and  byways 
of  the  Connecticut  colonies,  and  the  ways  leading  to 
and  out  of  Boston.  He  was,  as  we  have  said,  a  giant  in 
form,  and  his  usual  salutation — "  The  top  of  the  morning 
to  everybody,"  or  "  The  top  of  the  morning  to  everybody 
on  this  green  earth " — won  the  hearts  of  people,  and 
as  much  by  the  tone  in  which  it  was  spoken  as  by  the 
whole-hearted  expression  itself.  He  came  to  be  known 
as  the  Irish  giant  of  the  hill  country. 

He  traveled  much  in  the  secret  service  from  Lebanon 
to  Plainfield  and  Providence,  which  was  a  part  of  the  turn- 
pike road  to  ITorwich.  The  children  and  dogs  seemed  to 
know  him,  and  the  very  geese  along  the  way  to  salute  him 
with  honks  of  wonder  quite  uncommon. 

He  greeted  titled  people  and  laborers  in  the  same 
common  way,  and  he  one  day  said  to  the  Governor: 

"  If  I  were  to  meet  General  Prescott  himself,  I  would 
not  take  off  my  hat  to  him  unless  he  met  me  civil." 

"Who  was  General  Prescott?  Not  the  patriot  hero 
of  Bunker  Hill.  He  was  a  British  general  that  had  been 
10  135 


136  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

sent  to  Rhode  Island,  and  had  made  himself  a  terror 
there.  The  women,  children,  dogs,  and  perhaps  the  farm- 
house geese,  ran  from  him  when  he  appeared;  even  the 
Ehode  Island  Quakers  moved  aside  when  he  was  seen  in  a 
highway. 

He  carried  a  cane. 

"When  he  met  a  person  in  the  highway  he  used  to 
say: 

"  Off  with  your  hat!     Don't  you  know  who  I  am?  " 

If  the  person  so  accosted  did  not  doff  his  hat,  the 
pompous  General  gave  the  hat  a  vigorous  whack  with  his 
stout  cane,  and  the  wearer's  head  rung,  and  the  latter 
did  not  soon  again  forget  his  manners. 

He  once  met  an  aged  Quaker  on  the  way — and  these 
incidents  are  largely  traditional — who  approached  him 
respectfully,  after  the  usual  way,  with  his  broad-brimmed 
hat  covering  his  curly  locks. 

"  Yea,  verily,  one  day  outshines  another,  and  to  good- 
ly people  this  is  a  goodly  world." 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  said  the  testy  General. 

"A  servant  of  the  Lord,  as  I  hope." 

"  A  servant  of  the  Lord?  Off  with  your  hat!  Haven't 
you  any  reverence  for  me,  nor  the  Lord  either?  Don't 
you  know  who  I  am  ?  " 

"  I^ay,  nay,  softly;  speak  not  thus,  my  friend." 

"  Off  with  your  hat !  "  said  the  irate  General.  "  ITone 
of  your  yea  says  and  nay  says  in  my  presence." 

"  I  never  unhat  or  unbonnet,  my  friend,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  any  man.  I  could  not  do  it  if  I  were  to  meet 
the  King  himself." 


A  MAN  WITH  A  CANE  137 

The  General  grew  red  in  the  face. 

"  There,  you  Pharisee,  take  that,"  and  here  he  ap- 
plied his  cane  to  the  good  Quaker's  hat,  "  and  that,  and 
that,  and  that  !  " 

The  Quaker  strode  away,  and  would  need  a  new  hat 
when  next  he  went  abroad  on  the  highway  of  the  orchards 
and  gardens. 

General  Prescott,  while  at  Newport,  desired  to  have 
a  sidewalk  in  front  of  his  house,  so  he  ordered  all  of 
his  neighbors'  door-stones  to  be  removed  for  the  pur- 
pose. 

He  was  a  petty  tyrant,  and  he  liked  nothing  so  much 
as  to  make  the  people — "  rebels,"  as  he  called  them — 
feel  his  power.  He  would  order  any  one  whom  he  dis- 
liked to  be  sent  to  the  military  prison  without  assigning 
any  reason. 

He  once  sent  a  greatly  respected  citizen  to  prison  and 
forbade  that  the  latter  should  have  any  verbal  communi- 
cation with  his  friends  or  family.  The  wife  of  the  pris- 
oner used  to  send  him  notes  in  loaves  of  bread. 

One  day  she  appeared  before  Prescott,  and  desired 
him  to  allow  her  to  make  one  visit  to  her  husband. 

"Who  do  you  think  I  am?"  said  the  General,  or 
words  in  this  spirit.  "  Instead  of  allowing  you  to  visit 
him,  I  will  have  him  hanged  before  the  end  of  the  week." 

Under  the  petty  tyranny  of  Prescott  no  one  seemed 
safe  on  the  island. 

The  stories  of  Prescott's  insults  to  worthy  people 
roused  the  spirit  of  Dennis. 

"An'  sure  it  is,  now,"  he  said  to  the  Governor,  "if 


138  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

I  were  to  meet  that  big-feeling  Britisher,  I  would  make 
him  take  off  his  own  hat.    Look  at  me  now." 

Dennis  stretched  himself  up  to  a  height  of  nearly 
seven  feet. 

"  If  he  sassed  me  back,  I'd  give  him  one  box  on  the 
ear  with  this  shovel  of  a  hand,  and  he  would  never  speak 
one  word  after  he  felt  its  swoop;  and  it  will  be  a  sorry 
day  if  he  ever  says  '  Off  with  your  hat '  to  me,  now!  " 

He  repeated  these  things  to  Peter  on  the  green. 

Dennis  had  met  a  man  in  Providence  by  the  name 
of  Barton — Colonel  Barton.  This  man  was  a  native  of 
Warren,  R.  I.,  and  the  son  of  a  thrifty  farmer  who 
owned  a  beautiful  estate  on  Touisset  Neck.  The  farm 
and  the  family  burying-ground  are  still  to  be  seen  there, 
much  as  they  were  in  the  Bevolutionary  days.  The  place 
is  now  owned  by  Elmer  Cole. 

Barton  was  a  brave,  bold  man.  He  conceived  a  plan  to 
capture  the  tyrannical  Prescott  and  humiliate  the  testy 
Britisher.  For  this  enterprise  he  desired  to  enlist  strong, 
fearless,  seafaring  men. 

He  had  met  Dennis  and  had  said  to  himself  that  he 
must  have  the  rugged  Irishman's  assistance. 

He  met  Dennis  again  one  day  in  Providence. 

"Dennis  O'Hay,  can  you  keep  a  secret?" 

"  Sure  I  can,  if  anybody.  Dennis  O'Hay  would  not 
betray  a  secret  if  the  earth  were  to  quake  and  the  heavens 
were  all  to  come  tumbling  down,  sure  as  you  are  living — 
never  that  would  Dennis  O'Hay." 

"  Then  close  your  mouth  and  open  your  ears.  I  have 
a  plan  to  capture  General  Prescott." 


A  MAN  WITH  A  CANE  139 

"  An'  I  am  with  je.  I'll  like  to  make  that  man  feel 
the  wake  of  my  two  fists,  and  he  wouldn't  dare  to  cane 
me  after  that." 

"  I  want  to  secure  twenty  men  or  more  that  I  can 
trust,  seafaring  men.  You  must  be  one  of  them,"  he 
continued. 

"  I  plan  to  go  down  to  "Warwick  !N'eck,  and  to  go  over 
to  the  island  with  my  picked  men  in  the  night  on  whale- 
boats.  The  General  and  his  guard  are  at  the  Overing 
House  on  the  north  end  of  the  island,  down  by  the  sea. 

"  I  plan  to  pass  through  the  British  fleet  in  the  night 
with  muffled  oars,  to  land  near  Prescott's  headquarters, 
and " 

"  Whoop !  "  said  Dennis  rudely,  "  to  carry  him  off 
before  he  has  time  to  put  on  his  clothes.  You  hand 
him  over  to  me,  and  I  would  get  him  back  down  to  the 
boats  as  easy  as  a  chicken-hawk  with  a  chicken.  He 
would  not  even  ask  me  to  take  off  my  hat.  Put  me  down 
as  one  of  the  picked  men." 

"  You  will  meet  me  at  the  wharf  on  "Warwick  Neck 
on  the  afternoon  of  July  10th." 

"That  I  will.  You  are  a  brave  man  and  have  the 
spirit  of  the  times.  That  man  will  know  what  are  the 
rights  of  men  if  I  ever  get  him  between  these  two  fists. 
What  did  Providence  make  these  hands  for? " 

Dennis  opened  them  and  swung  them  around  like  a 
windmill. 

Dennis  hurried  back  to  Lebanon.  He  found  the  Gov- 
ernor there,  and  said: 

"I  am  going  on  an  adventure  with  Colonel  Barton; 


140  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

and  when  I  return  perhaps  I  will  bring  a  stranger  with 
me.    Mum  is  the  word,  your  Honor." 

"  Barton,  who  is  he?  "  asked  the  Governor. 

"  A  man  with  a  stout  heart,  who  can  see  in  the  dark." 

"  Go,  Dennis,  I  have  confidence  in  you." 

Then  Dennis  went  to  Peter.  He  did  not  tell  him  the 
plot,  not  all  of  it,  but  he  said: 

"  I  am  going  to  attempt  something  that  will  tip  over 
the  world.  I  want  you  to  watch  for  my  coming  back. 
I  will  signal  to  you  from  the  Plainfield  Hills,  and  when 
you  see  the  signal,  run  to  the  Governor  and  say:  '  They've 
got  him ! '  Oh,  Peter,  it  is  a  f oine  lad  that  you  are  now." 
Dennis  slapped  both  hands  on  his  knees,  and  laughed  in 
a  strange  way. 

When  the  evening  of  the  10th  of  July  came  and 
Warwick  Point,  with  its  green  sea  meadows  and  great 
trees,  faded  in  the  long  cloudy  twilight,  off  the  new 
wharfage  lay  three  whale-boats,  strong  ribbed,  and  ample 
enough  to  hold  immense  storage  of  blubber. 

In  the  shadows  of  the  waving  trees  were  Colonel 
Barton  and  some  forty  men.     The  old  ballad  says: 

'Twas  on  that  dark  and  stormy  night, 

The  winds  and  waves  did  roar, 
Bold  Barton  then  with  twenty  men 

Went  down  upon  the  shore. 

There  were  more  than  twenty  men  who  gathered  at 
Warwick  Point  on  that  eventful  evening. 

It  had  been  a  windy  day,  a  July  storm,  and  the  bay, 
usually  so  blue  and  placid,  was  ruffled. 

Dennis  was  on  hand  at  the  appointed  hour. 


A  MAN  WITH  A  CANE  141 

"  This  is  a  good  night  for  our  enterprise,"  said  Barton. 
"This  is  a  night  of  darkness,  and  it  favors  usj  let  it  be 
one  of  silence." 

"Aye,  aye,"  said  Dennis.  "Oh,  General  Prescott, 
how  I  long  to  fold  you  in  my  arms  and  give  you  a  pat, 
pat  on  your  face!  " 

"  Stop  your  joking,"  said  Barton.  "  We  face  serious 
work  now." 

Darkness  fell  on  the  waters.  The  men  were  mostly 
sailors,  or  used  to  seafaring  life. 

They  heard  the  boom  of  the  sunset  gun  from  the 
British  war-ships  lying  between  them  and  Rhode  Island. 

The  boats  started  toward  Rhode  Island  in  the  dark- 
ness with  silent  men  and  muffled  oars. 

They  passed  between  the  ships  that  were  guarding  the 
British  camp. 

"All  is  well,"  called  a  sentinel  on  one  of  the  ships 
whose  lights  glimmered  in  the  mist. 

"  Much  you  know  about  it,"  said  Dennis. 

"  Silence !  "  said  Barton,  as  the  oars  dipped  in  the 
waters  in  which  lay  the  cloud. 

As  silent  as  sea-birds  and  as  unseen  as  birds  in  the 
cloud  the  boats  passed  on  and  reached  the  shores  of 
Rhode  Island,  beyond  the  two  islands  of  Prudence  and 
Patience. 

There  were  lights  in  the  Overing  House.  They  glim- 
mered in  the  mist  through  the  wet  and  dripping  trees. 

The  clouds  were  breaking  and  the  moon  was  rolling 
through  them. 

Barton  summoned  to  him  four  trusty  men.     Among 


142  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

them  was  the  giant  Dennis,  and  a  powerful  negro  called 
Sile  Sisson. 

This  party  stole  through  the  side  ways  to  the  house. 

A  guard  was  there. 

"  Halt  and  give  the  countersign !  "  said  the  sentinel. 

"  We  need  no  countersign,"  said  the  leader.  "  Are 
there  any  deserters  here  ? " 

The  sentinel  was  thrown  off  his  guard. 

Suddenly  he  found  his  gun  wrenched  from  him,  and 
he  himself,  poor  man,  in  the  hands  of  the  giant  Dennis. 
He  was  greatly  astonished. 

Colonel  Barton  entered  the  house,  and  found  Mr. 
Overton,  a  Quaker,  reading  in  one  of  the  lower  rooms. 

"Is  General  Prescott  here?"  asked  Colonel  Barton. 

The  Quaker's  eyes  rounded. 

"  He  has  retired." 

"Where  is  his  room?" 

"  At  the  head  of  the  stairs." 

Colonel  Barton  ascended  the  stairs  and  stood  before 
Prescott's  door. 

He  gave  a  startling  rap. 

There  was  no  response. 

He  tried  the  door.  It  was  locked.  He  endeavored  to 
force  open  the  door,  but  it  was  firm. 

"  I  will  open  the  door,"  said  the  giant  negro.  "  Stand 
back." 

His  head  was  like  a  battering  ram.  He  drew  back, 
bent  forward,  and  struck  the  door  with  the  top  of  his 
head. 

Crash! 


A  MAN  WITH  A  CANE  143 

An  old  gentleman  jumped  out  of  bed,  all  astonished 
and  excited. 

"Thieves!  help!"  cried  the  terrified  man;  but  the 
sentry  was  in  charge  of  Dennis. 

Colonel  Barton  laid  his  hand  on  General  Prescott's 
shoulder. 

"  General  Prescott,  you  are  my  prisoner,  and  you 
must  go  immediately  to  my  boats." 

"  The  dragon  I  am !     Give  me  time  to  dress." 

"  No,  you  can  have  no  time  to  dress.  I  will  take  your 
clothes  with  you;  march  right  on,  just  as  you  are." 

The  proud  General  was  pushed  down-stairs,  greatly 
to  the  amazement  of  the  good  Quaker,  Mr.  Overton,  and 
was  led  out  into  fields  which  were  full  of  briers,  partly 
naked  as  he  was.  He  was  so  filled  with  terror  that  he 
did  not  greatly  mind  the  briers.  He  was  hurried  over 
the  rough  ways,  gasping  and  trembling,  and  found  him- 
self on  a  whale-boat,  with  two  other  boats  near  him. 
The  three  boats  moved  away. 

"  All  is  well !  "  said  the  sentinels  on  the  ships. 

The  noon  of  night  passed,  the  clouds  scudding  over 
the  moon;  and  the  silent  boats,  amid  the  British  assur- 
ances that  all  was  well,  landed  near  Providence,  and 
horses  with  couriers  ran  hither  and  thither  to  carry  the 
news  that  Colonel  Barton  had  captured  General  Prescott. 

It  was  decided  to  send  Prescott  to  Washington's  head- 
quarters, and  he  would  pass  through  Lebanon. 

Dennis  rode  swiftly  toward  Lebanon  to  tell  the  people 
the  great  news.  He  raised  the  signal  at  Plainfield,  and 
Peter  ran  to  the  Governor's  office. 


144  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"  Karee  show !  raree  show !  "  shouted  Dennis  as  he 
entered  the  town,  and  met  the  open-mouthed  people  on 
the  green.  "  Let  the  heavens  rejoice  and  the  earth  be 
glad,  and  all  good  people  shout  now.  Colonel  Barton 
has  captured  General  Prescott,  and  thej  are  bringing  him 
here!" 

General  Prescott,  with  his  spirit  unbroken,  was 
brought  to  Lebanon.  The  carriage  in  which  he  was  held 
as  a  prisoner  rolled  up  to  the  door  of  the  old  Alden 
Tavern,  and  Prescott  was  led  into  the  office. 

"  I  must  have  something  to  eat,"  said  Prescott. 

The  good  woman  of  the  tavern  bustled  about,  and 
brought  out  her  bean-pot  and  set  it  down  on  the  dining- 
table.  She  had  stewed  corn,  too,  and  of  the  two  one  might 
make  the  old-time  luxury  called  succotash. 

The  beans  and  corn  steamed,  and  the  good  woman, 
loyal  as  she  was,  was  glad  that  she  could  present  so  fine 
a  supper  to  such  a  notable  man. 

But  General  Prescott  had  been  used  to  the  dining-halls 
of  castles. 

"Do  you  call  that  a  supper?"  said  he  angrily.  "It 
is  not  fit  for  hogs  to  eat.    Take  it  away !  " 

Dennis  had  come  upon  the  scene. 

"  Take  it  away !  "  demanded  Prescott  haughtily. 

"  I'll  take  you  away  for  insulting  my  wife,"  said  the 
tavern-keeper.  "  Dennis,  take  down  the  cowhide  and  I 
will  make  this  Britisher  dance." 

The  tavern-keeper  applied  the  cowhide  to  the  leaping 
General  as  an  old-fashioned  schoolmaster  might  have  used 
a  birch  switch  on  an  unruly  boy. 


A  MAN  WITH  A  CANE  145 

It  was  a  terrible  chastisement  that  the  General 
received,  and  he  always  remembered  it.  One  day, 
in  the  course  of  the  war,  after  he  had  been  exchanged 
for  General  Lee,  he  met  a  man  who  looked  like  the 
tavern-keeper,  and  he  shrunk  back  in  alarm  and  said: 
"  Oh,  but  I  thought  that  was  the  man  who  cowhided 
me." 

These  incidents  are  mainly  true,  and  have  but  a  thread 
of  fiction. 

Dennis  became  a  local  hero  among  the  friends  of 
Brother  Jonathan,  and  took  his  place  as  the  keeper  of 
the  alarm-post  again. 

"  Dennis,"  said  the  Governor  to  him  one  day,  "  our 
hearts  are  one;  I  can  trust  you  anywhere.  I  will  have 
important  service  for  you  some  day.  When  there  shall 
come  some  great  emergency,  I  will  know  whom  I  can 
trust.  General  Washington  trusts  me,  and  I  can  trust 
you." 

What  a  compliment!  Dennis  threw  up  his  arms,  and 
leaped. 

"  I  feel  as  though  I  could  shake  the  heavens  now. 
After  General  Washington,  you,  and  after  you — ^hurrah 
for  Dennis  O'Hay!  I  wish  my  old  mother  in  Ireland 
could  hear  that,  now.  You  shall  never  trust  the  heart 
of  Dennis  O'Hay  to  your  sorrow.  These  times  make 
men,  and  one  does  not  get  acquainted  with  himself  until 
he  is  tried." 

Dennis  had  grown.  He  felt  that  something  noble  in 
the  secret  service  awaited  him.  If  he  could  not  make 
himself  famous,  he  could  be  a  cause  of  success  in  others. 


146  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

That  he  would  be,  and  this  sense  of  manhood  filled  his 
ambition. 

"  It  is  only  a  matter  of  time,"  he  said,  "  between 
Shakespeare  and  the  King  and  Dennis  O'Hay.  We  will 
all  go  into  oblivion  at  last,  like  the  kings  of  the  pyramids 
of  Egypt.     It  is  only  what  we  do  that  lasts." 

So  our  shipwrecked  mariner  and  rustic  philosopher 
night  after  night  mounted  the  stairs  to  the  outlook  win- 
dow, and  saw  the  stars  rise  and  set,  and  was  glad  that 
he  was  living. 

He  shared  his  life  with  the  shepherd-boy.  He  lived 
outside  of  himself,  as  it  were — all  did  then. 

Dennis  often  joined  the  story-tellers  on  the  Alden 
green  and  in  the  war-office  store.  At  the  store  the  way- 
farers bartered  in  a  curious  way:  they  swapped  stories. 
The  drovers  were  a  pack  of  clever  story-tellers,  but  also  the 
wayfarers  from  the  sea. 

Dennis  O'Hay,  who  had  been  used  to  the  docks  of 
Belfast,  Liverpool,  and  London,  saw  some  strange  sights 
on  his  rides  to  secure  stores  for  the  army,  and  saltpeter 
among  the  hill  towns. 

One  cold  March  day  he  stopped  before  the  fence  of  a 
hillside  farmhouse,  and  his  eye  rested  upon  the  most  curi- 
ous object  that  he  had  ever  beheld  in  his  life.  It  seemed 
to  be  a  sheep  dressed  in  man's  clothing,  eating  old  sprouts 
from  cabbage  stumps. 

He  sat  on  his  horse  and  watched  the  man,  or  sheep- 
man, as  the  case  might  be. 

"  Ye  saints  and  sinners,"  said  he,  "  and  did  any  one 
ever  see  the  like  o'  that  before?    ISTot  a  man  in  sheep's 


A  MAN  WITH  A  CANE  147 

clothing,  but  a  sheep  in  a  man's  clothing,  browsing  on 
last  year's  second  growth  of  cabbage.  I  must  call  at  the 
door  and  find  out  the  meaning  o'  that." 

He  called  to  the  sheep: 

"  You  there,  baa,  baa,  baa !  " 

The  sheep  in  his  jacket  answered  him,  "  Baa-baa,"  and 
came  running  to  the  gate  as  if  to  welcome  him. 

Dennis  dismounted  and  pulled  the  strap  of  the  door. 

The  sheep  followed  him  to  the  door,  and  when  the 
latter  was  opened,  announced  the  arrival  of  a  stranger 
by  a  baa. 

A  tall,  elderly  man  stood  at  the  door,  dressed  in  a 
new  woolen  suit.  He  had  a  high  neck-stock,  and  bowed 
in  a  very  stately  way.     He  had  manners. 

"An'  I  am  out  on  business  for  the  Governor,"  said 
Dennis. 

"  You  are  welcome,"  said  the  tall  man.  "  Any  one  in 
the  service  of  the  Governor  is  welcome  to  my  home,  and 
to  the  best  of  my  scanty  fare."     He  bowed  again. 

Dennis  walked  in,  so  did  the  sheep,  with  many  baas. 

"  Take  a  place  before  the  fire,"  said  the  tall  old  man, 
"  I  feel  the  snows  of  age  falling  upon  me,"  he  continued. 
"  The  sun  and  the  light  of  the  moon  will  soon  be  dark- 
ened to  me,  and  the  clouds  already  return  after  the 
rain. 

"  The  keepers  of  the  house  tremble,"  here  he  lifted 
his  hands,  which  shook  with  a  slight  palsy;  "and  the 
grinders  cease  because  they  are  few,"  here  he  pointed  to 
his  almost  toothless  gums ;  "  and  those  that  look  out  of 
the  windows  be  darkened,"  here  he  took  a  pair  of  specta- 


148  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

cles  from  his  eyes.  He  talked  almost  wliolly  in  scrip- 
tural language. 

The  sheltered  sheep  said  baa,  and  dropped  down  before 
the  fire.  Dennis  knew  not  what  to  say,  but  uttered  a 
yum,  when  the  tall  man  broke  out  again :  "  The  sound 
of  the  grinding  is  low,  and  I  fear  when  I  walk  on  the 
places  that  are  high,  and  the  grasshopper  is  a  burden. 
Yes,  my  friend,  the  silver  cord  will  soon  be  loosed,  and 
the  golden  bowl  broken  and  the  pitcher  at  the  fountain 
and  wheel  at  the  cistern.  You  find  me  a  reed  shaken 
by  the  wind,  a  trembling  old  man;  but  I  have  never 
seen  the  righteous  forsaken,  nor  his  seed  begging 
bread.  I  am  at  your  service;  my  house,  such  as  it 
is,  is  yours."  He  bowed,  and  turned  around  and 
bowed. 

"  I  am  out  and  about  collecting  saltpeter,"  said  Dennis, 
"  and  all  that  I  ask  is  to  warm  myself  by  your  fire,  except, 
except — ^well,  that  shorn  sheep  puzzles  my  wits.  Pardon 
me,  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons  if  I  seem  uncivil,  but  why 
is  it  dressed  up  in  that  way?  " 

"  I  will  explain  and  enlighten  your  curiosity,  my 
friendly  traveler.  The  sheep  has  on  my  old  clothing, 
and  I  have  on  his." 

He  continued :  "  I  am  the  teacher  here,  and  my  pay 
is  small,  and  the  war  taxes  take  all  I  can  save.  My  old 
clothes  became  very  worn,  as  you  can  see  there,  and  I 
had  to  maintain  my  dignity.  I  am  a  graduate  of  Yale, 
and  so  I  exchanged  clothing  with  my  one  sheep. 

"  My  noble  wife  brought  it  about;  she  is  at  her  wheel 
now.    Let  me  call  her  and  introduce  her." 


A  MAN  WITH  A  CANE  149 

He  opened  a  door  to  a  room  where  a  wheel  was  whirl- 
ing and  buzzing  like  a  northern  wind. 

"May,  my  dear!  " 

May  appeared.  The  withered  man  bowed,  holding 
his  right  hand  in  air  on  a  level  with  his  forehead.  May 
made  a  courtesy. 

"  Behold  a  virtuous  woman,"  said  the  tall  man,  with 
manners.     "  Her  price  is  above  rubies. 

"  The  heart  of  her  husband  does  safely  trust  in  her, 
that  he  shall  have  no  need  of  spoil. 

"  She  seeketh  wool  and  flax." 

Here  the  sheep  seemed  to  be  in  a  familiar  atmosphere, 
and  responded  in  his  one  word,  baa. 

"  She  layeth  hands  on  the  spindle,  and  holds  the  dis- 
taff. Her  household  are  clothed  in  scarlet.  Her  children 
rise  up  and  call  her  blessed,  and  her  husband  praiseth 
her." 

Dennis  had  seen  many  parts  of  the  world,  but  he  had 
never  been  introduced  to  any  one  in  that  way  before. 

The  old  man  added,  much  to  the  wonder  and  amuse- 
ment of  his  guest: 

"  I  sheared  the  sheep  and  she  carded  the  wool,  and 
she  spun  the  wool  and  wove  it  into  strong  cloth,  and  dyed 
the  cloth,  and  here  I  am  clothed  against  the  storm.  You 
see  what  a  wife  I  have  got." 

"  And  what  a  sheep  you  have  got,  too,"  said  Dennis. 
"  But  may  the  Lord  protect  you  both.  You  have  a  heart 
to  let  the  sheep  warm  himself  by  your  fire,  and  that  is 
why  you  give  me  a  place  here." 

"  And  now,  wife,"  said  the  tall  man,  "  place  the  best 


150  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

that  you  have  on  the  table  for  the  stranger.  'Be  not 
forgetful  to  entertain  strangers.'  " 

"  But,  mj  dear  consort,  we  have  only  one  cake  left 
for  us  two." 

"  Well,  give  that  to  him,  and  we  will  go  supperless 
to  Him  who  owns  the  cattle  upon  a  thousand  hills.  He 
is  riding  in  the  cause  of  liberty,  and  needs  the  cake  more 
than  we.  God  will  give  us  the  white  stone  and  the  hidden 
manna,  and  to  serve  the  patriots  we  have  gone  supperless 
before." 

Queer  as  it  may  seem,  this  story  pictures  the  time. 
This  man  plowed  with  a  cow,  but  treated  the  animal  as  if 
she  was  a  member  of  the  household;  men  and  animals  suf- 
fered together  then  in  those  hard,  sturdy,  and  glorious  old 
'New  England  days. 

"  This  is  a  queer  country,"  said  Dennis,  "  but  what 
men  it  makes !     What  will  they  be  when  they  are  free !  " 

But  now  came  the  disastrous  battle  of  Long  Island. 
New  York  was  taken,  and  the  fall  winds  began  to  blow. 

There  was  sadness  in  every  true  American's  heart. 
England  was  rejoicing,  and  felt  secure  in  the  rising  suc- 
cess of  her  arms. 

Washington  appealed  to  Trumbull.  A  former  appeal 
had  come  in  spring-time,  when  Putnam  left  his  plow  in 
the  furrow. 

The  appeal  now  came  in  harvest-time.  What  were 
the  farmers  to  do? 

"  The  wives  and  boys  and  old  men  will  harvest  the 
crops,"  was  the  public  answer.  "  Save  Washington  again, 
Brother  Jonathan!  " 


A  MAN  WITH  A  CANE  151 

It  was  in  1777.  Disaster  had  again  befallen  the  Amer- 
ican army,  and  Lord  Howe  was  on  the  sea. 

Where  was  the  British  commander  going?  Some 
thought  to  the  Hudson  River,  some  to  Philadelphia.  No 
patriot  could  know. 

Washington  was  in  great  distress  and  perplexity. 

Putnam  commanded  Philadelphia.  In  this  crisis  a 
young  man  presented  himself  to  General  Putnam. 

"  I  am  a  patriot  at  heart,"  he  said,  "  but  have  been 
with  Lord  Howe.  I  have  been  commanded  by  Lord  Howe 
to  bear  a  letter  to  General  Burgoyne,  but,  true  to  the 
American  cause,  I  have  brought  the  letter  to  you." 

The  letter  was,  or  seemed  to  be,  in  the  handwriting 
of  Lord  Howe.  It  was  sent  to  Washington.  It  informed 
Burgoyne  that  the  fleet  was  about  to  proceed  against 
Boston. 

"  The  letter  is  a  feint,"  said  Washington.  But  he  read 
into  it  the  real  design  of  Lord  Howe,  which  was  to  pro- 
ceed against  him,  and  he  was  thrown  by  it  into  the  greatest 
perplexity. 

He  must  have  more  troops,  and  at  once.  He  con- 
sulted Putnam,  and  said :  "  I  want  you  to  send  an  express 
to  Governor  Trumbull  at  once.  Tell  him  to  send  the 
State  militia  without  delay.  He  will  not  fail  me."  He 
added :  "  Connecticut  can  not  be  in  more  danger  than  this. 
Governor  Trumbull  will,  I  trust,  be  sensible  to  this.  I 
must  appeal  again  to  Brother  Jonathan." 

These  were  nearly  Washington's  own  words  to  Con- 
necticut Putnam,  of  the  fearless  heart. 

Putnam  sent  a  courier  to  Connecticut,  a  man  on  a 
11 


152  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

winged  horse,  as  it  were,  wlio  "  flew "  as  Dennis  had 
done. 

"  If  you  ever  rode,  ride  now,"  was  the  probable  order. 
"  If  we  ever  had  need  of  Brother  Jonathan,  it  is  now." 

Still  Brother  Jonathan,  whose  heart  was  like  a  ham- 
mer and  head  like  a  castle.  This  courier  was  destined 
to  startle  indeed  the  people  of  the  cedars. 

The  American  army  was  in  dire  distress  and  Lord 
Howe  was  on  the  sea! 

Brother  Jonathan !  He  had  grown  now  in  reputation 
so  that  the  hearts  of  the  people  beyond  his  own  State  were 
his.  If  he  could  save  the  situation  he  would  indeed  be  the 
first  of  patriots. 

The  messenger  came,  and  said :  "  I  am  sent  to  you  from 
Washington." 

The  Governor  turned  to  the  courier: 

"  Go  to  the  tavern;  take  your  horse  and  yourseK,  and 
say  to  your  chief,  '  It  shall  be  done ! '  " 

What  was  it  that  should  be  done? 

The  Council  of  Safety  assembled  in  the  back  store. 

"  Washington  waits  another  regiment,"  said  one  of 
the  members  in  the  back  store. 

"  Yes,  so  it  seems,"  said  another.  "  Every  point  seems 
to  be  threatened." 

"  We  may  find  it  hard  to  raise  another  regiment,"  said 
a  third  member. 

"  One,"  said  the  Governor,  "  one  regiment  ?  We 
must  raise  imra;!     We  can  do  it." 

"  Will  the  men  descend  from  the  sky? "  questioned 
one.    "  We  can  not  create  men." 


A  MAN  WITH  A  CANE  153 

"He  can  who  thinks  he  can,"  said  the  Governor. 
"Nine  regiments  he  needs,  and  nine  regiments  he  shall 
have.    Shall  he  not?  " 

"Yes,"  said  all,  "if  you  can  find  the  men." 

"  I  can  find  the  men.    Dennis?  " 

There  was  no  response. 

The  shell  was  blown.     The  latch-string  bobbed. 

"  Dennis,  Washington  must  have  nine  regiments  for 
the  defense  of  'New  York.  That  means  work  for  you. 
Go  to  the  towns — fly!  Tell  the  selectmen  that  Washing- 
ton wants  men.  He  has  sent  his  appeal  to  me;  he  has 
put  confidence  in  my  heart,  notwithstanding  my  weak 
hands.  He  shall  not  appeal  in  vain.  Go,  Dennis;  these 
days  are  to  live  again.  I  feel  the  divinity  of  the  times; 
I  must  act,  though  I  myself  am  nothing.  Go  to  Norwich, 
Hartford,  New  Haven — fly,  Dennis,  fly!  " 

"  I  am  not  a  bird,  your  Honor." 

"Yes,  Dennis,  you  are.  Fly!  "  That  word  was  the 
order  now. 

Then  the  Governor  talked  with  the  Committee  of 
Safety  in  the  back  store  until  midnight. 

The  candles  went  out,  and  the  men  slept  there. 

The  nine  regiments  of  three  hundred  and  fifty  men 
each  were  raised. 

Men  were  few  in  old  Windham  County  now.  "  Gone 
to  the  war,"  answered  many  inquiries. 

The  women  led  the  teams  to  the  field;  the  old  men, 
old  women,  and  the  boys  went  to  the  husk-heap  and  husked 
com.  The  boys  learned  to  use  the  threshing  flails  and 
winnowing  sieves  in  the  barns  with  open  doors. 


154  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

The  young  and  old  filled  the  potato  bins  in  the  cellar 
and  stored  the  apples  there.  They  banked  the  houses 
with  thatch. 

Governor  Trumbull  was  now  at  the  full  age  when  the 
vital  powers  ripen,  and  when  many  men  begin  to  abate 
their  activities.  But  he  seemed  to  forget  his  age;  he 
was  never  so  active  as  now. 

Washington  noted  this  activity  of  age  with  wonder, 
and  he  wrote  to  him :  "  I  observe  with  great  pleasure  that 
you  have  ordered  the  remaining  regiments  of  militia  that 
can  be  spared  from  the  immediate  defense  of  the  sea- 
coast  to  march  toward  ^ew  York  with  all  expedition. 
I  can  not  sufficiently  express  my  thanks."  To  which 
Brother  Jonathan  replied: 

"  When  your  Excellency  was  pleased  to  request  the 
militia  of  our  State  to  be  sent  forward  with  all  possible 
expedition  to  reenforce  the  army  at  New  York,  no  time 
was  lost  to  expedite  the  march;  and  I  am  happy  to  find 
the  spirit  and  zeal  that  appeared  in  the  people  of  this 
State,  to  yield  every  assistance  in  their  power  in  the 
present  critical  situation  of  our  affairs.  The  season,  in- 
deed, was  most  unfavorable  for  so  many  of  our  farmers 
and  laborers  to  leave  home.  Many  had  not  even  secured 
their  harvest;  the  greater  part  had  secured  but  a  small 
part  even  of  their  hay,  and  the  preparation  of  the  crop 
of  winter's  grain  for  the  ensuing  year  was  totally  omitted; 
but  they,  the  most  of  them,  left  all  to  afford  their  help 
in  protecting  and  defending  their  just  rights  and  liberties 
against  the  attempt  of  a  numerous  army  sent  to  invade 
them.     The  suddenness  of  the  requisition,  the  haste  and 


Jonathan  Trumbull. 


A  MAN  WITH  A  CANE  155 

expedition  required  in  the  raising,  equipping,  and  marcli- 
ing  such  a  number  of  men  after  the  large  drafts  before 
made  on  this  State,  engrossed  all  our  time  and  attention." 

The  people  forgot  themselves  for  the  cause.  When 
Washington  and  Trumbull  made  a  call  upon  them  for  help 
it  was  like  Moses  and  Aaron.  They  did  not  argue  or  ques- 
tion; they  hurried  to  the  village  greens,  there  to  receive 
their  orders  as  from  the  Deity. 

That  autumn  the  Governor  issued  a  wonderful  procla- 
mation for  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer. 

The  bell  rang;  the  people  assembled.  Trumbull  al- 
ways attended  church,  and  the  chair  in  which  he  used  to 
sit  is  still  shown  in  Lebanon.  The  people  followed  his 
example.  They  felt  that  what  was  best  for  them  would 
be  best  for  their  children,  and  that  whether  they  left 
them  rich  estates  or  not,  they  must  bequeath  them  liberty 
and  the  examples  of  virtue.  So  they  lived  mightily  in 
"Brother  Jonathan's  day." 


CHAPTER   X 

BEACONS 

Theee  is  one  history  of  the  Revolution  that  has  never 
been  written;  it  is  that  of  beacons.  The  beacon,  in  the 
sense  of  a  signal,  was  the  night  alarm,  the  night  order. 
The  hills  on  which  beacons  were  set  were  those  that  could 
be  seen  from  afar,  and  those  who  planted  these  far  angles 
of  communications  of  light  were  patriots,  like  the  rest. 

There  was  a  beacon  at  Mt.  Hope,  R.  I.  It  probably 
signaled  to  a  beacon  on  King's  Rocks,  Swansea,  which 
picturesque  rocks  are  near  to  the  Garrison  House  at  Myles 
Bridge,  and  the  Swansea  church,  founded  in  the  spirit 
of  liberty  and  learning  by  the  famous  John  Myles,  a 
learned  exile  from  Wales,  who  came  to  Swansea,  Mass., 
for  religious  liberty,  bringing  his  church  records  from 
Swansea,  Wales,  with  him.  The  old  Hessian  burying- 
ground  is  near  the  place.  Here  John  Myles  founded 
education  in  the  spirit  of  the  education  of  all.  He  made 
every  house  a  schoolhouse  by  becoming  a  traveling 
teacher. 

The  King's  Rocks  beacon  communicated  with  Provi- 
dence, and  Providence  probably  with  Boston. 

In  Boston  was  the  beacon  of  beacons.  Beacon  Hill 
156 


BEACONS  157 

now  bears  its  name.  A  book  might  be  written  in  regard 
to  this  famous  beacon.  It  stood  on  Sentry  Hill,  a  tall 
mast  overlooking  city  and  harbor,  not  at  first  with  a 
globe  on  the  top  and  an  eagle  on  the  globe,  as  is  repre- 
sented on  the  monument.  Sentry  Hill  was  the  highest 
of  the  hills  of  Trimountain.  The  golden  dome  of  the 
State-house  marks  the  place  now. 

The  first  beacon  in  Boston  was  erected  here  in  1635. 
It  was  an  odd-looking  object. 

The  general  court  of  Massachusetts  thus  gave  the 
order  for  the  erection  of  the  beacon: 

"  It  is  ordered  that  there  shall  be  a  beacon  set  on 
Sentry  Hill,  to  give  notice  to  the  country  of  danger." 

The  beacon  had  a  peg  ladder  and  a  crane,  on  which 
was  hung  an  iron  pot. 

This  beacon  seems  to  have  remained  for  nearly  one 
hundred  and  fifty  years.  It  was  the  suggestion  of  beacons 
in  many  places,  and  these  were  the  telegraph  stations  of 
the  Revolutionary  War.  A  history  of  the  beacons  would 
be  a  history  of  the  war. 

What  a  signal  it  made  as  it  blazed  in  the  heavens! 
What  eyes  were  turned  toward  it  in  the  nights  of  alarm 
of  the  Indian  wars,  and  again  in  the  strenuous  times  of 
the  expedition  against  Louisburg,  and  in  all  the  years  of 
the  great  Revolution!  A  tar-barrel  was  placed  on  the 
beacon-mast  in  perilous  times,  and  it  flamed  in  the  sky 
like  a  comet  when  the  country  was  in  danger. 

Beacon  (or  Sentry)  Hill  was  almost  a  mountain  then. 
The  owners  lowered  it  for  the  sake  of  gravel  for  private 
and  public  improvements.     It  filled  hollows  and  length- 


158  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

ened  wharves,  and  at  last  the  beacon  gave  place  to  the 
monument  of  its  usefulness. 

In  New  York  beacons  were  set  along  the  highlands 
whose  tops  fired  the  night  skj  in  times  of  danger. 

These  beacons  or  signals  probably  suggested  the  sema- 
phore— a  system  of  signals  with  shutters  and  flags  used 
in  France  during  the  wars  of  ISTapoleon. 

Governor  Trumbull  said  one  day  to  Dennis :  "  We 
must  consider  the  matter  of  beacons." 

The  two  went  into  the  war  office  to  consider. 

"  I  will  bring  the  subject  before  the  Committee,"  said 
the  Governor  after  they  had  "  considered "  the  matter 
for  a  time,  "  and  you  may  get  Peter  to  point  out  to  you 
the  longest  lookouts  on  the  high  hills.  The  sky  must  be 
made  to  speak  for  the  cause  in  tongues  of  fire." 

The  Tories  more  and  more  hated  the  war  Governor. 

"  I  would  kill  him  as  I  would  a  rattlesnake,"  said  one 
of  these. 

There  were  new  plots  everywhere  among  Tory  people 
to  destroy  him  and  his  great  influence. 

Peter  Nimble,  though  really  a  guard  on  secret  service, 
still  herded  sheep  and  roamed  after  his  flocks  and  guided 
them  in  the  pleasant  seasons  of  pasturage.  He  went  up  on 
the  hills  of  the  savins  above  the  cedar  swamps.  He  knew 
the  hills  better  than  many  of  the  people  of  Lebanon. 

One  day  he  met  the  Governor  on  the  green. 

"  Governor,"  he  said,  "  I  watch  at  nights.  You  know 
all.  I  watch  for  spies  that  are  looking  for  the  magazines. 
You  know.  Governor.  I  can  do  you  a  greater  service 
than  that." 


BEACONS  159 

"  "Well,  boy,  you  speak  well.    "What  can  you  do?  " 

"  I  can  think  and  talk  with  the  skies." 

"  That  is  bravely  said,  but  what  do  you  mean? " 

"  I  can  set  beacons  on  the  hills.  I  have  studied  the 
hilltops,  and  how  to  look  far.  I  can  see  how  I  could 
flash  a  signal  from  one  hill  to  Plainfield,  and  to  Provi- 
dence, and  to  New  London." 

"  Boy,  boy,  you  see.  I  can  trust  you.  Have  you 
told  Mr.  "Williams  of  this?  Shepherd-boy,  shepherd-boy, 
you  are  one  after  my  own  heart.  Find  out  the  way  to 
set  beacons.  Set  signals.  How  did  this  knowledge  come 
to  you? " 

"  My  heart  is  full  of  my  country,  when  I  am  among 
the  flocks  on  the  hills." 

"  You  are  like  another  David.  Talk  with  Dennis 
about  these  things." 

«  Governor? " 

"  "Well,  my  shepherd-boy?  " 

"  One  day,  it  may  be,  I  will  see  something." 

The  Governor  went  to  his  war  office.  People  were 
coming  from  four  different  ways,  all  to  consult  with  the 
Governor:  horsemen,  men  in  gigs,  men  from  the  ships, 
people  with  provisions,  all  with  something  special  to  say 
to  the  Governor. 

The  Governor  met  "William  "Williams,  "the  signer," 
at  the  door  of  the  war  office. 

"  That  is  a  bright  boy  that  you  keep  to  herd  sheep," 
said  he. 

"Peter?" 

"Yes.     He  has  just  said   something  to  me  that  I 


160  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

tliink  remarkable.  Give  him  freedom  to  do  much  as  he 
pleases.    He  is  carrying  out  secret  instructions  of  mine." 

Peter  studied  hilltops,  and  told  Dennis  of  all  the  curi- 
ous angles  that  he  discerned  on  the  far  and  near  hills. 
He  set  beacons  and  found  out  how  he  could  communicate 
with  Plainfield,  Providence,  and  Groton. 

In  the  meantime  he  watched  in  the  midnight  hours 
at  an  angle  in  the  turnpike  road  behind  the  curious  win- 
dow. He  knew  that  the  magazine  was  near;  he  did  not 
seek  to  learn  where.  While  the  young  patriot's  mind 
was  employed  in  these  things  there  came  to  him  one  night 
a  very  strange  adventure,  which  led  him  to  see  to  how 
great  peril  the  Governor's  person  was  exposed. 

Peter  thought  much  of  his  aged  uncle,  the  wood- 
chopper,  who  had  said  to  him,  "  Out  you  go !  "  The  boy 
had  a  forgiving  heart.  "  He  did  it  on  account  of  his  love 
for  the  King,  and  he  thinks  that  a  king  is  appointed  by 
God,"  he  would  say  to  the  Governor.  "  Do  not  disturb 
him." 

The  Governor  would  not  disturb  him.  He,  too,  had 
a  forgiving  heart. 

Peter's  heart  was  true  to  the  old  man.  He  sometimes 
wondered  as  to  where  would  fall  the  old  man's  gold  at 
last — to  the  King,  or  him.  But  he  had  no  selfish  schemes 
in  the  matter — for  him  to  do  right  was  to  live.  In  his 
midnight  watches,  and  with  his  most  curious  means  of 
communication  with  the  alarm-post  in  the  cedars,  he  held 
one  purpose  uppermost:  it  was,  to  protect  from  harm  the 
unselfish  Governor  who  had  spoken  so  kindly  to  him  when 
his  heart  was  hungry,  and  whom  all  the  people  loved. 


BEACONS  161 

The  Governor  still  went  about  with  apparent  uncon- 
cern; he  would  talk  here  and  there  with  those  who  de- 
tained him  and  needed  him,  now  at  the  tavern,  now  upon 
the  village  green.  But  the  people  all  knew  that  danger- 
ous people  were  coming  and  going  to  and  from  the  green- 
walled  town. 

Peter  saw  something  suspicious  in  the  conduct  of  sev- 
eral sailors  who  visited  the  place  from  the  ports,  and  who 
called  the  inland  province  the  Connecticut  main. 

"  I  would  sooner  die  myself,"  he  said  to  Dennis, 
"  than  to  see  any  harm  befall  the  Governor.  '  Greater 
love  hath  no  man  than  this,  that  a  man  lay  down  his  life 
for  his  friends.'  "  He  had  learned  to  quote  Scripture  from 
the  Governor. 

One  night  as  he  was  watching  with  his  window  at  the 
elbow  of  the  turnpike,  he  was  surprised  to  hear  a  soft, 
slow,  cautious  footfall,  and  to  see  a  curious  stranger  in 
a  blanket  approaching  in  the  dim  light.  He  turned  up 
the  hill  behind  the  window  and  light  to  see  if  the  man 
in  the  blanket  would  follow  him. 

The  man  in  the  blanket  turned  when  Peter  set  down 
the  window,  and  went  down  the  hill  as  from  a  house  to 
meet  the  traveler. 

Peter  stopped  the  stranger,  whom  he  saw  to  be  dark 
and  tall,  and  who  held  under  his  blanket  some  weapon 
which  seemed  to  be  a  hatchet. 

"  Do  you  live  in  yonder  house  ? "  the  man  asked. 

"  No,"  said  the  boy,  "  that  is  not  my  house.  Whom 
are  you  seeking? " 

"Does  an  old  man  live  there?"  asked  the  stranger. 


162  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"  An  old  man  who  used  to  live  with  a  boy — his  brother's 
boj?" 

"No,  no,"  answered  Peter  in  much  surprise. 

"  Do  you  know  of  any  old  man  that  lives  all  alone  ? 
They  say  that  the  boy  has  left  him." 

"  I  have  in  mind  such  an  old  man,  stranger." 

"What  became  of  the  boy?" 

"  He  tends  sheep  during  the  days." 

"  Can  you  direct  me  to  the  place  where  the  old  man 
lives? " 

"  What  would  you  have  of  him? " 

"  I  would  have  him  help  me.     I  need  help." 

"  Did  you  ever  meet  him?  " 

"  No." 

"  How  did  you  hear  of  him? " 

"  I  am  partly  an  Indian.  The  scholars  of  the  Indian 
school  that  were  once  here  used  to  meet  him  on  the  road 
in  front  of  his  wood-pile.  They  heard  that  he  had  con- 
cealed money.  Indian  need  heap  money.  Indian  must 
have  help." 

The  last  sentence  showed  that  the  Indian  spoke  true 
in  regard  to  his  nationality. 

A  suspicion  flashed  across  Peter's  mind;  this  stray  In- 
dian was  out  in  the  forest  at  this  time  with  no  honest 
purpose. 

He  simply  said :  "  Follow  me." 

He  led  the  Indian  to  the  alarm-post.  The  Indian 
thought  that  he  was  going  to  the  wood-chopper's 
cabin.  Dennis  received  the  night  wanderer  and  de- 
tained him. 


BEACONS  163 

"  I  must  go  and  alarm  my  uncle,"  said  Peter  to  Dennis, 
privately. 

He  hurried  away  toward  the  old  wood-chopper's  cabin. 

He  beat  on  the  door,  and  cried: 

"Lift  the  latch!" 

There  was  a  noise  within,  and  presently  the  latch  was 
lifted. 

"  You,  boy  ?  You  ?  "What  brings  you  here  at  this 
time  of  night? " 

"  To  warn  you  of  danger.  There  has  been  a  man  in 
the  cedar  swamp  who  is  seeking  you,  and  he  has  no  honest 
purpose  in  his  heart,  as  I  could  see.  He  is  a  half-breed. 
He  says  that  you  have  money  concealed." 

The  old  man's  face  took  on  a  look  of  terror. 

He  began  to  dance  around. 

"Who — ah — says  that  I  have  money  concealed?"  he 
said,  lighting  a  candle — "  who — who — who  ?  "  He  lit  an- 
other light. 

"  Boy,  you  are  not  deceiving  me  ?  You  never  deceived 
anybody.  And  what  a  heart  you  must  have  to  come  here 
to  protect  an  old  man  like  me,  who  said  to  you,  *  Out  you 
go! '  And  you  have  held  no  hardness  against  me — I  have 
cursed  you — because  you  have  turned  against  the  King. 
Come  in — sit  down — I  am  afraid.  You  don't  think  that 
the  Indian  meant  to  rob  me,  do  you?  " 

"  I  think  he  intended  to  find  you  in  the  night  and 
beg  money,  and  if  you  refused  him  to  demand  money, 
and  if  you  refused  him,  then  to  find  out  where  you  hid 
money.  If  I  had  not  turned  him  aside,  I  don't  believe 
that  you  would  have  been  living  in  the  morning.     Bad 


164  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

Indians  murder  lone  men  by  lonely  ways.  There  was 
crime  in  his  eye." 

"  Boy,  let  me  bar  the  door.  I  know  your  heart.  You 
had  a  mother  who  had  a  true  heart,  and  a  boy's  heart 
is  his  mother's  heart.  You  only  come  here  for  a  good 
purpose.  I  know  that.  And  you  have  come  in  to-night 
to  protect  me,  who  turned  you  out. 

"  Boy,  I  have  money.  I  am  willing  to  tell  you  now 
where  it  is!  " 

"  But,  uncle,  I  am  not  seeking  your  money — I  do  not 
wish  to  know  where  it  is." 

"But  you  must — ^you  must;  you  are  the  only  friend 
that  I  have  on  earth.  What  made  me  say,  '  Out  you  go ! ' 
when  I  needed  you? 

"  The  money — if  ever  I  should  die,  do  you  come  back 
here  and  take  all  I  leave,  and  wash  and  wash  and  wash 
until  you  find  the  bottom  of  the  soap-barrel.  There,  I 
haven't  told  you  anything.  People  don't  hide  money  in 
the  soap-barrel — no,  no;  lye  eats — no,  no.  You  know 
enough  now.    Will  you  stay  with  me  until  morning? " 

"N^o;  I  have  come  to  take  you  to  the  war  ofiice, 
for  protection — to  the  store.  One  room  there  is  almost 
always  open." 

"  To  the  Governor's !  He  suspects  me  of  being  a  Tory. 
What  would  the  King  say,  if  he  were  to  know  that  I 
went  to  the  rebel  Governor  for  protection?  ^o,  no,  no, 
no.  Let  the  Indians  kill  me — I  will  die  true  to  my  king. 
You  may  go — you  will  not  betray  me." 

"  I  can  not  leave  you  until  morning,  and  then  I  will 
see  that  you  are  guarded." 


BEACONS  165 

"Who  will  guard  me?" 

"  The  Governor  will  see  that  you  are  kept  from  harm." 

"  No,  no,  no.  Go,  Peter,  go — out  into  the  night.  I 
want  the  King  to  know  that  he  has  one  heart  that  is  true 
to  him  in  the  land  of  the  cedars.  Go!  I  will  bolt  mj 
door  nights — and  will  chop  wood.  That  is  what  I  tell 
people  who  come  to  visit  me — I  chop  wood — and  I  will 
say  no  more. 

"  You  would  die  for  the  Governor,  and  I  am  willing 
to  suffer  any  danger  for  my  king — for  King  George  of 
Hanover.    Go !  " 

Peter  went  out  into  the  night.  There  was  something 
in  his  grim  uncle's  loyalty  that  kindled  his  admiration, 
and  there  was  a  touch  in  the  old  man's  desire  that  he 
should  possess  his  property  that  really  awakened  a  chord 
of  love  in  his  heart.  He  resolved  that  he  would  be  as 
true  to  the  old  man  as  ever  his  duties  to  the  cause  would 
allow,  although  the  rugged  Tory  had  said  to  him  a  second 
time,  "  Out  you  go !  "    The  heart  knows  its  own. 

Peter  could  ride  like  the  wind.  So  the  people  said 
"  that  he  streaked  it  through  the  air."  With  his  night 
service,  and  his  placing  of  beacons  on  the  hills,  and  his 
place  at  the  door  of  the  war  office  in  the  store,  which 
he  yet  sometimes  filled,  and  the  spirit  that  he  had  shown 
toward  his  unhappy  old  uncle,  the  wood-chopper,  he  was 
making  for  himself  a  personality. 

The  Governor  entrusted  him  with  a  message  to  the 
army  at  Valley  Forge. 

The  Governor's  wife  was  a  noble  woman,  as  we  have 
seen.    She  was  true  to  her  own.    Her  family  were  very 


166  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

tender-hearted  and  affectionate.  Her  daughter  Faith, 
who  could  paint  and  who  had  inspired  her  brother,  the 
great  historic  painter,  in  his  boyhood,  died  of  insanity 
after  hearing  the  thunders  of  Bunker  Hill.  She  had  mar- 
ried Colonel  Huntington,  who  went  to  the  camps  around 
Boston.  She  hoped  to  meet  him  there,  but  arrived  just 
as  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill  was  rending  the  air. 

When  she  thought  of  what  war  might  mean  to  her 
father,  her  husband,  and  her  brother,  who  was  an  officer, 
her  mind  could  not  withstand  the  dark  vision  that  arose 
before  her,  and  it  went  out.  She  died  at  Dedham.  One 
of  her  brothers,  too,  had  so  much  of  the  human  and 
elemental  nature  as  to  have  become  greatly  depressed  by 
disappointment.  The  Trumbulls  were  a  marvelous  fam- 
ily, with  a  divine  spark  in  them  all,  but  not  all  the  children 
had  the  rugged  nerve  of  their  father. 

The  wife  of  Governor  Trumbull  guarded  her  family 
when  the  Governor  was  absent  on  official  duties  at  Hart- 
ford. 

The  family  now  were  like  so  many  listeners — to  get 
tidings  from  the  war  was  their  life,  and  anxiety  filled 
their  faces  as  messengers  from  Boston,  Providence, 
l^ew  London,  and  Hartford,  and  the  great  powder- 
mills  and  ordnance  works  of  hidden  Salisbury  came  to 
them. 

One  evening,  when  the  Governor  was  away,  a  mes- 
senger came  to  the  green,  and  stopped  before  the  tavern. 
It  was  dark  and  rainy. 

"  It  is  the  shepherd-boy !  "  said  Eaith  Trumbull,  stand- 
ing in  the  door,  with  a  lantern  in  her  hand.     "  He  has 


BEACONS  167 

returned  from  Valley  Forge.  I  almost  shut  mj  heart 
against  the  news.    His  face  is  white." 

The  boy  came  to  the  house  and  Madam  Trumbull  re- 
ceived him  by  laying  her  hand  on  his  shoulders. 

Dennis  came  running  in. 

"You,  my  boy  Nimble?  You  made  a  quick  jour- 
ney." 

The  family  sat  down  by  the  broad,  open  fire.  Their 
anxiety  was  shown  by  their  silence. 

"  Well,"  said  madam,  "  the  time  has  come  to  speak. 
What  news?" 

"  Oh,  could  you  see,"  said  the  shepherd-boy,  "  shoe- 
less men,  foodless  men — snow  and  blood.  When  the  men 
move,  the  snow  lies  red  behind  them.  Oh,  it  makes  my 
heart  sick  to  tell  it.  I  would  think  that  the  stars  would 
look  down  in  pity." 

"  Dennis,"  said  madam,  "  call  the  women  of  the  Relief 
Committee  here  to-night,  all  of  them — now." 

"  Let  us  hear  what  more  the  boy  has  to  say." 

"  No ;  suffering  has  no  right  to  be  delayed  one  moment 
of  relief.    Go  now." 

Dennis  went  out  into  the  night.  He  returned  with  the 
women,  who  began  to  knit  stockings  for  the  barefoot  sol- 
diers of  Valley  Forge. 

Madam  addressed  the  women. 

"  I  belong  to  the  Pilgrim  Colony,"  said  she,  "  but  of 
that  I  would  not  boast.  Hear  the  rain,  hear  the  sleet, 
and  the  wind  rising!  You  have  met  here  in  the  rain. 
The  fire  burns  warm. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  my  thoughts — something  that  comes 
12 


168  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

to  me.  It  was  such  a  night  as  this  when  John  Howland 
with  a  band  of  Pilgrims  sailed  in  the  deep  darkness,  near 
the  coast,  on  the  shallop  of  the  Mayflower,  and  he  knew 
not  where  he  was." 

"  What  did  he  do  ? "  asked  one  of  the  knitters. 

"He  sang  in  the  storm.  Darkness  covered  him — 
there  was  ice  on  the  oars  as  they  lifted  and  fell.  There 
was  no  light  on  the  coast.  The  wind  rose  and  the  seas 
were  pitiless,  but  he  sang — John  Howland." 

«  What  did  he  sing?  " 

"  That  I  can  not  tell.  I  think  that  he  sang  the  Psalm 
that  we  sing  to  the  words 

'  Grod  is  the  refuge  of  his  saints, 
Though  storms  of  sharp  distress  invade.' 

Let  us  sing  that  now.  The  storm  that  tossed  the  shallop 
of  the  Mayflower  broke;  the  clouds  lifted.  So  it  will  be 
at  Valley  Forge.    Knit  and  sing." 

And  the  knitters  sang.  The  storm  rose  to  a  gale. 
Shutters  banged,  and  there  was  only  the  tavern  lights 
to  be  seen  across  the  black  green. 

Suddenly  a  strange  thing  happened. 

Peter  opened  the  door,  hat  in  hand. 

"  Madam  Trumbull,"  said  he,  "  may  I  speak  to  you?  " 

"  Yes,  Peter,  boy;  what  have  you  to  say? " 

"  I  saw  a  strange  man  at  Valley  Forge.  He  was  young 
— a  Frenchman. 

"  One  cold  night  he  was  standing  near  Washington  in 
the  marquee,  and  Washington,  the  great  Washington,  put 
his  own  cloak  about  him,  and  the  two  stood  under  the 
same  cloak,  and  some  officers  gathered  around  him.    And 


BEACONS  1G9 

I  heard  him  say,  the  young  Frenchman :  *  When  you  shall 
hear  the  bugles  of  Auvergne,  the  cause  of  liberty  will  have 
won  the  battle  of  the  world/     AVhat  did  he  mean?" 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Madam  Robinson ;  "  it  seems 
like  a  prophecy;  like  John  Howland,  the  pilgrim,  singing 
in  the  night-storm  on  the  shallop  of  the  Mayflower.  The 
bugles  of  Auvergne ! — the  words  seem  to  ring  in  my  ears. 
What  was  the  young  Frenchman's  name  ?  " 

"  Lafayette." 

The  next  day  Peter  went  to  Dennis  and  related  the 
same  story,  and  said: 

"  America  will  be  free  when  she  shall  hear  the  bugles 
of  Auvergne." 

"  So  she  will;  I  feel  it  in  my  soul  she  will — the  bugles 
of  Auvergne!  That  sounds  like  a  silver  trumpet  from 
the  skies.     But  where  are  the  bugles  of  Auvergne  ?  " 

"I  do  not  know,  but  we  will  hear  them — Lafayette 
said  so." 

"  But  who  is  that  same  Lafayette? " 


CHAPTEK   XI 

THE    SECEET    OF    LAFAYETTE 

THE  STORY  OF  THE  WHITE  HORSE 

Lafayette  was  born  on  September  6,  1757,  in  tbe 
province  of  Auvergne,  now  Cantal,  Puy-de-D6me,  and 
Haute-Loire.  His  birthplace  was  the  Chateau  de  Cha- 
vagnac,  situated  some  six  miles  from  ancient  Brionde. 

Auvergne  was  celebrated  for  men  of  character  and 
honor  rather  than  wealth  and  distinction — men  who  de- 
served to  outlive  kings,  and  whose  jewels  were  virtues. 
It  became  a  proverb  that  the  men  of  Auvergne  knew  no 
stain,  and  hence  the  ensigns  and  escutcheons  of  the  rugged 
soldiers  of  the  mountain  towns  were  associated  with  the 
motto,  "  Auvergne  sans  tache." 

These  soldiers  kept  this  motto  of  their  mountain  homes 
ever  in  view;  they  would  die  rather  than  violate  the 
spirit  of  it. 

Lafayette  was  of  noble  family,  and  appeared  at  court 
when  a  boy.  But  the  gay  court  did  not  repress  the  spirit  of 
Auvergne  which  lived  in  him,  and  grew.  He  was  of  noble 
family,  and  his  father  fell  at  the  battle  of  Minden.  The 
battery  that  caused  his  father's  death  was  commanded  by 
General  Phillips,  against  whom  Lafayette  fought  in  the 
great  Virginia  campaign. 
170 


THE  SECRET  OP  LAFAYETTE         171 

At  tte  age  of  sixteen,  the  spirit  of  the  mountaineers 
of  Auvergne  rose  within  him.  He  became  an  ardent  ad- 
vocate of  the  liberties  of  men,  and  he  seemed  to  see  the 
star  of  liberty  rising  in  the  Western  world,  and  he  was 
restless  to  follow  it.  He  heard  of  the  American  Con- 
gress as  an  assembly  of  heroes  of  a  new  era — the  new 
Senate  of  God  and  human  rights.  Princes,  after  his  view, 
should  not  violate  the  law  of  the  people. 

The  heart  of  the  King  of  France,  while  France  at 
first  professed  neutrality  in  the  American  struggle,  was 
with  the  patriots;  so  was  the  sympathy  of  the  gay  French 
court.  The  boy  Lafayette  knew  this;  he  longed  to  carry 
this  secret  news  to  America. 

He  came  to  America,  as  we  have  described,  with  this 
secret  in  his  heart. 

The  capture  of  Burgoyne  in  October,  1777,  delighted 
France.  The  clock  of  liberty  had  struck;  it  only  needed 
the  aid  of  France  to  give  independence  to  the  Americans. 

Lafayette  became  more  restless.  He  had  married  into 
a  noble  family,  but  the  companionship  of  a  beautiful  and 
true  woman  could  not  stifle  this  patriotic  restlessness.  He 
saw  that  he  might  be  an  influence  in  bringing  France 
to  the  aid  of  America.    To  do  this  became  his  life. 

The  Queen  espoused  the  cause  of  America ;  let  us  ever 
remember  this,  notwithstanding  that  there  are  so  many 
unpleasant  things  about  her  to  remember.  Then  the 
American  cause  seemed  to  fail  in  the  Jerseys  and  France 
to  lose  her  interest  in  it. 

Young  Lafayette's  heart  was  true  to  America  in  these 
dark  hours.     He  knew  that  France  could  be  aroused  to 


172  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

action.  He  espoused  the  cause  of  America  in  her  dark- 
ness, and  doubtless  dreamed  of  being  able  to  convey  to 
Washington  a  secret,  that  few  other  men  so  clearly  saw. 
France  would  espouse  the  cause  of  America  when  events 
should  open  the  way. 

N'ever  such  a  secret  crossed  the  sea  as  young  Lafayette 
bore  in  his  bosom  to  Washington.  It  came,  as  it  were, 
out  of  Auvergne;  it  was  borne  against  every  allurement 
of  luxury  and  self;  it  was  an  inborn  imperative.  When 
a  new  world  was  to  be  revealed,  Columbus  had  to  sail; 
when  liberty  was  to  be  established  among  men,  Lafayette, 
the  child  of  destiny,  had  to  face  the  west;  where  was  there 
another  race  of  liberty-loving  men  like  those  of  the  Con- 
necticut farmers?  In  Auvergne.  Who  of  all  men  could 
represent  this  spirit  of  liberty  in  America?     Lafayette. 

He  won  the  heart  of  America;  even  the  British  re- 
spected him.  His  true  sympathy  was  the  cause  of  his 
great  popularity;  his  heart  won  all  hearts. 

In  the  terrible  winter  of  1778  the  American  army 
with  Washington  and  Lafayette  were  at  Valley  Forge; 
the  British  were  in  Philadelphia,  spending  a  gay  winter 
reveling. 

'No  pen  can  describe  the  destitution  and  suffering  of 
the  5,000  or  more  patriots  at  Valley  Forge.  The  white 
snows  of  that  winter  in  the  wilderness  were  stained  with 
the  blood  of  naked  feet.     Famine  came  with  the  cold. 

The  men  were  "  hutted  "  in  log  cabins.  "  The  gen- 
eral's apartment  is  very  small,"  wrote  Mrs.  Washington; 
"  he  has  a  log  cabin  built  to  dine  in,  which  has  made  our 
quarters  much  more  tolerable  than  they  were  at  first." 


THE  SECRET  OF  LAFAYETTE  173 

There  was  no  fresh  meat  there;  no  sufficient  salted 
provisions.  There  were  no  cattle  in  the  neighboring  towns 
or  States  that  could  be  spared  for  the  army. 

But  they  suffered  in  silence.  They  went  half-clothed 
and  hungry,  but  they  did  not  desert. 

"  Nothing  can  equal  their  sufferings,"  wrote  one  of 
an  examining  committee.  Even  the  cannon  was  frozen 
in,  and  bitten  by  the  frost  were  the  limbs  of  those  who 
were  commissioned  to  handle  them. 

Had  General  Howe,  whose  army  was  dissipating  at 
Philadelphia,  led  out  his  troops  against  the  famine-stricken 
army  in  the  Valley,  what  might  have  been  the  fate  of 
the  American  cause? 

The  dissipations  of  the  English  army  was  one  cause , 
of  its  overthrow.     That  army  had  been  reveling  when 
surprised  at  Trenton. 

With  his  men  wasting  and  dying  around  him,  shoeless, 
coatless,  foodless,  what  was  Washington  to  do? 

At  one  of  the  dismal  councils  of  his  generals  there 
came  a  counsel  that  made  the  hearts  all  quicken. 

"  Send  to  Connecticut  for  cattle.  Let  us  appeal  to 
Brother  Jonathan  again;  he  has  never  failed  us." 

"  I  never  made  an  appeal  to  Brother  Jonathan  but  to 
receive  help,"  said  the  great  commander. 

The  appeal  was  made.  In  his  letter  to  Governor 
Trumbull,  Washington  said: 

"  What  is  still  more  distressing,  I  am  assured  by  Colo- 
nel Blaine,  deputy  purchasing  commissary  for  the  middle 
district,  comprehending  the  States  of  New  Jersey,  Penn- 
sylvania, and  Maryland,  that  they  are  nearly  exhausted, 


174  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

and  the  most  vigorous  and  active  exertions  on  his  part 
will  not  procure  more  than  sufficient  to  supply  the  army 
during  this  month,  if  so  long.  This  being  the  ease,  and 
as  any  relief  that  can  be  obtained  from  the  more  southern 
States  will  be  but  partial,  trifling,  and  of  a  day,  we  must 
turn  our  eyes  to  the  eastward,  and  lay  our  account  of 
support  from  thence.  Without  it,  we  can  not  but  disband. 
I  must,  therefore,  sir,  entreat  you  in  the  most  earnest 
terms,  and  by  that  zeal  which  has  eminently  distinguished 
your  character  in  the  present  arduous  struggle,  to  give 
every  countenance  to  the  person  or  persons  employed  in 
the  purchasing  line  in  your  State,  and  to  urge  them  to 
the  most  vigorous  efforts  to  forward  supplies  of  cattle 
from  time  to  time,  and  thereby  prevent  such  a  melan- 
choly and  alarming  catastrophe." 

Read  these  words  twice :  "  Without  it  the  army  must 
disband." 

As  soon  as  Governor  Trumbull  had  received  the  letter 
he  called  together  the  Council  of  Safety.  He  read  it 
to  them.     They  wept. 

"  An  army  of  cattle  might  save  the  cause,"  said  one. 

"  Our  suffering  brothers  shall  have  the  army  of  cattle," 
said  Brother  Jonathan. 

He  at  once  aroused  the  farmers  of  Connecticut. 
Horsemen  dashed  hither  and  thither,  away  from  Hart- 
ford and  from  the  war  office  to  the  hillside  farms. 

"  Cattle !  cattle !  "  they  cried.  "  Our  army  is  perishing. 
Washington  has  appealed  to  Brother  Jonathan !  " 

At  the  head  of  these  alarmists  rode  Dennis  O'Hay, 
awakening  the  villages  with  his  resonant  brogue: 


THE  SECRET  OP  LAFAYETTE         175 

"  It  is  cattle,  an  army  of  cattle,  that  "Washington  must 
have  now!  His  men  are  going  barefooted  in  the  snow. 
Oh,  the  shame  of  it!  His  men  have  no  meat  to  warm 
their  veins  in  the  cold.  Oh,  the  shame  of  it!  They  fever, 
they  wither,  they  are  buried  in  clumps  and  clods.  Oh, 
the  shame  of  it !  Arouse,  or  the  heavens  will  fall  down  on 
you!     Cattle!     Cattle!" 

The  thrifty  hillside  farmers  had  made  many  sacrifices 
already,  but  they  responded. 

An  army  of  cattle  began  to  form.  It  increased. 
Nearly  every  farm  could  spare  one  or  more  beeves,  armed 
with  fat  flesh  and  warm  hides. 

So  it  started,  armed,  as  it  were,  with  horns,  Dennis 
leading  them  under  officers. 

Three  hundred  miles  it  marched,  gathering  force  along 
the  way. 

It  entered  at  last  the  dreary  wilderness  of  the  suffer- 
ing camp.  The  men  saw  it  coming.  There  went  up  a 
great  shout,  which  ran  along  the  camp,  and  went  up  from 
even  the  hospital  huts: 

"The  Lord  bless  Brother  Jonathan!  " 

The  officers  hailed  the  cattle-drivers. 

"  Should  we  win  our  independence,"  said  an  officer, 
"  what  will  we  not  owe  to  Brother  Jonathan  and  his  army 
of  cattle  from  the  provision  State!  " 

Dennis  froze  with  the  others  that  winter. 

In  the  spring  he  returned,  moneyless,  fameless.  Half 
of  his  face  was  black,  and  one  hand  had  gone.  The  ex- 
plosion of  a  powder-wagon  which  he  had  been  forcing 
on  toward  Washington's  army  had  caused  the  change  in 


176  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

Ms  appearance,  but  it  was  rugged  work  that  Dennis  O'Hay 
jbad  done  during  that  past  winter  for  the  army. 

The  Governor  heard  his  story. 

"  Dennis  O'Hay,"  said  he,  "  when  America  achieves 
her  liberty,  and  her  true  history  shall  be  written,  the 
inspired  historian  will  see  in  such  as  you  the  cause  of 
the  mighty  event.  It  is  men  who  are  willing  to  suffer  and 
be  forgotten  that  advance  the  welfare  of  mankind;  it  is 
not  wealth  or  fame  that  lifts  the  world:  it  is  sacrifice, 
sacrifice,  sacrifice !     That  means  you,  Dennis  O'Hay. 

"  Dennis,  did  you  know  that  they  once  offered  me 
the  place  of  the  colonial  agent  to  London?  They  did, 
and  I  refused  for  the  good  of  my  own  people  at  home. 
That  is  a  sweet  thing  for  me  to  remember.  The  only 
thing  that  a  man  can  have  in  this  world  to  last  is  right- 
eous life.  This  is  true,  Dennis:  that  the  private  soldier 
who  seeks  all  for  his  cause  and  nothing  for  himself  is  the 
noblest  man  in  the  annals  of  war,  unless  it  be  a  Wash- 
ington." 

"  And  you.  Governor  Trumbull." 

Dennis  took  off  his  hat  and  bowed  low. 

The  Governor  also  took  off  his  hat  and  bowed  twice, 
and  the  people  who  had  gathered  around  took  off  their 
hats  and  shouted. 

"  The  stars  will  hear  ye  when  ye  shout  for  Brother 
Jonathan,"  said  Dennis  O'Hay.  "  I  have  brought  home 
a  secret  with  me." 

"  What  may  it  be  ?  "  asked  many. 

"  It  would  not  be  a  secret  were  I  to  tell  it." 

Dennis,  after  driving  his  army  of  cattle,  with  under- 


THE  SECRET  OP  LAFAYETTE         177 

drivers,  had  entered  lustily  the  place  of  the  halted  army 
of  desolation.  He  had  remained  there  until  spring.  He 
was  greeted  there  one  day  by  two  men,  one  a  tower  of 
majestic  manhood,  the  other  a  glittering  young  man  of 
warm  heart  and  enthusiasm;  they  were  Washington  and 
Lafayette. 

"  Your  army  will  save  us,  my  good  friend,"  said  the 
man  of  majestic  presence. 

"  This  army  will  save  the  cause,"  said  the  younger 
officer. 

There  was  a  look  of  hope  in  his  face  that  revealed 
to  Dennis  that  he  had  some  secret  ground  for  this  con- 
fidence. 

Washington  moved  away  to  his  marquee. 

Dennis,  hat  in  hand,  said  to  Lafayette: 

"May  I  detain  you  a  moment,  your  Honor?" 

"  Yes,  my  honest  man ;  what  would  you  have  ?  I  hope 
that  it  may  be  something  that  I  can  grant." 

"  Do  you  remember  that  day  when  you  spoke  of  a  body 
of  men  as  the  bugles  of  Auvergne  ? " 

"  Yes,  my  good  friend,  and  how  do  those  words  im- 
press you? " 

"I  can  never  tell.  They  are  words  within  words. 
Wbat  I  want  to  ask  of  you  is — pardon  my  bluntness,  I 
was  not  bred  in  courts,  as  you  see — couldn't  you  induce 
those  men  who  blow  the  bugles  of  Ovan  to  come  here 
and  give  us  a  lift?  My  heart  tells  me  that  they  would 
be  just  the  men  we  would  need.  I  don't  so  much  hear 
words  as  the  spirit  of  things,  and  the  heart  knows  its 
own." 


178  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"  I  will  think  of  these  things,  mj  good  friend  of  the 
honest  heart.  I  do  think  of  them  now.  I  will  entrust 
you,  a  stranger,  with  a  secret.  Will  you  never  tell  it  until 
the  day  that  makes  it  clear  arrives? " 

"  Never,  never,  never — oh,  my  heart  dances  when  I 
hear  good  things  of  the  cause  of  these  people  struggling 
so  mightily  for  their  liberties — no,  no,  the  tail  goes  with 
the  kite;  I  will  never  tell." 

"  I  am  now  writing  to  the  court  of  France.  If  I  get 
good  news,  I  will  ask  for  the  French  mountaineers  whose 
banner  is  Auvergne  sans  tache!  " 

"  May  the  heavens  all  take  ofi  their  hats  to  ye  and 
the  evil  one  never  get  ye.  I  can  see  them  coming  now, 
a  kind  o'  vision,  with  their  banners  flying.  I  have  second 
sight,  and  see  good  things.  Why  do  not  people  see  good 
things  now,  like  the  prophets  of  old,  and  not  witches  and 
ghosts?  To  Dennis  O'Hay  the  passing  clouds  are  angels' 
chariots.  Oh,  I  will  never  forget  you,  and  I  would  deem 
it  an  honor  above  honors  if  you  will  not  forget  Dennis 
O'Hay." 

"  One  thing  more,  good  Dennis,  I  have  to  say  to  you 
before  we  part.  If  a  French  ship  should  come  to  Norwich 
from  Lyons,  you  may  learn  more  about  Auvergne,  which 
is  the  Connecticut  of  France." 

"  Then  you  must  be  like  the  Governor,  who  is  so  all 
wrapped  up  in  the  cause  that  he  has  forgotten  to  grow 
old." 

The  young  French  officer  drew  his  cloak  about  him, 
and  touched  his  hat  and  went  to  the  marquee. 

Dennis  laid  down  to  rest  among  some  wasted  men  of 


THE  SECRET  OF  LAFAYETTE         179 

the  army  by  a  fire  of  fagots.  He  dreamed,  and  he  saw 
French  ships  sailing  in  the  air.  He  had  read  the  success 
of  the  cause  amid  all  these  miseries  in  the  heart  of  young 
Lafayette. 

"  That  boy  general  has  the  vision  of  it  all,"  said  he. 

The  Irishman  as  a  bearer  of  despatches  from  Governor 
Trumbull  was  not  without  importance. 

Dennis  lingered  to  rest  by  the  marquees  of  the  officers 
under  the  moon  and  stars.  He  listened  for  words  of  hope. 
One  night  Lafayette  talked.     He  engaged  all  ears. 

"  I  was  born  at  Auvergne,  in  the  mountain  district  of 
France,"  said  he,  "  and  the  soldiers  of  Auvergne  are  sons 
of  liberty.  They  are  mountaineers.  I  would  that  I  could 
induce  France  to  send  an  army  of  those  mountaineers  to 
America.  They  are  rugged  men;  they  believe  in  justice, 
and  equal  rights,  and  equal  laws,  and  for  this  cause  they 
are  willing  to  die.  They  have  a  grand  motto,  to  which 
they  have  always  been  true.  It  is  *  Auvergne  sans  tache  ' 
— Auvergne  without  a  stain.  I  love  a  soldier  of  Au- 
vergne, a  mountaineer  of  the  glorious  air  in  which  I  was 
bom." 

His  mind  seemed  to  wander  back  to  the  past. 

"  '  Auvergne  sans  tache,'  "  said  he.  "  '  Auvergne  sans 
tache ' — these  words  command  me,  they  have  entered 
into  my  soul.  Would  these  men  were  here,  and  that  I 
could  lead  them  to  victory!  " 

Dennis  caught  the  atmosphere. 

"  And  sure,  your  Honor,  people  find  what  they  seek, 
and  all  good  dreams  come  true  sometime,  and  you  will 
bring  them  here  some  day.    I  seem  to  feel  it  in  my  soul." 


180  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

The  officers  shouted. 

"  And  it  is  from  Connecticut  I  am." 

The  young  Frenchman  may  never  have  heard  of  the 
place  before. 

"And  brought  despatches  to  General  Putnam  from 
Brother  Jonathan. 

"  May  I  ask  what  were  these  words  of  the  French 
mountaineers  who  are  just  like  us — '  Auvergne  sans 
tache  '  ?  I  wonder  if  this  poor  head  can  carry  those  words 
back  to  Lebanon  green — Ovan-saan-tarche!  The  words 
ring  true,  like  a  bell  that  rings  for  the  future.  I  some- 
how feel  that  I  will  hear  them  again  somewhere.  Ovan- 
saan-tarche,  Ovan-saan-tarche!  I  will  go  now.  I  must 
tell  the  Governor  and  all  the  people  about  it  on  the 
green — Ovan-saan-tarche !  "What  shall  I  tell  the  people 
of  the  cedars? " 

"  Tell  the  people  of  the  cedars  that  there  is  a  young 
French  officer  in  the  camp  here  that  thinks  that  he  car- 
ries in  his  heart  a  secret  that  will  give  liberty  to  Amer- 
ica; that  aid  will  come  from  a  district  in  France  that 
grows  men  like  the  cedars." 

I^ow  the  secret  of  Lafayette  haunted  the  mind  of 
Dennis. 

"  A  spandy-dandy  boy  told  me  something  strange," 
said  he  to  the  Governor,  on  his  return.  "  He  was  a 
Frenchman,  with  a  shelving  forehead  and  red  hair,  and 
Washington  seemed  to  be  hugging  his  company,  as  it 
were;  the  General  saw  something  in  him  that  others  did 
not  see.  I  think  he  has  what  you  would  call  a  discern- 
ing of  spirits.     I  thought  I  saw  the  same  thing." 


THE  SECRET  OP  LAFAYETTE         181 

"Washington,  it  is  likely,  relies  on  this  officer,  be- 
cause the  young  Frenchman  believes  in  him  and  in  the 
cause,"  said  the  Governor.  "  Washington  is  human,  and 
he  must  have  a  lonesome  heart,  and  he  must  like  to  have 
near  him  those  who  believe  in  him  and  in  the  cause. 
That  is  natural." 

There  was  to  be  a  corn-roast  in  the  cedars — a  popular 
gathering  where  green  corn  was  roasted  on  the  ear  by  a 
great  fire  and  distributed  among  the  people. 

Had  Lebanon  been  nearer  the  sea  there  would  have 
been  a  clambake,  as  the  occasion  of  bringing  together 
the  people,  instead  of  a  corn-roast. 

At  the  clambakes  bivalves  and  fish  were  roasted  on 
heated  stones  under  rock-weed,  sea-weed,  and  a  covering 
of  sail-cloth,  the  latter  to  keep  down  the  steam. 

The  people  gathered  for  the  corn-roast,  bringing  lus- 
cious corn  in  the  green  husks,  new  potatoes,  apples,  and 
fruit.  The  women  brought  pandowdy,  or  pot-pies,  made 
of  apples  baked  in  dough,  which  candied  in  baking,  and 
also  brown  bread,  and  rye  and  Indian  bread,  and  perhaps 
"  no  cake,"  all  of  which  was  to  be  eaten  on  the  carpet  of 
the  dry  needles  of  the  great  pines  that  mingled  among 
the  cedars. 

This  was  to  be  a  lively  gathering,  for  a  report  had 
gone  abroad  that  Dennis  had  seen  a  prophet  and  had 
received  great  news  from  a  young  French  officer,  and 
that  he  would  tell  his  story  among  the  speeches  on  that 
day. 

It  was  in  the  serene  and  sunny  days  of  September. 
The   locusts   made   a   silvery,   continuous   music   in  the 


182  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

trees.  The  birds  were  gathering  for  migrations.  The 
fields  were  full  of  goldenrod  and  wild  asters,  and  the 
oaks  bj  the  wayside  were  here  and  there  loaded  with 
purple  grapes. 

The  people  came  to  the  cedar  grove  froiii  near  and 
from  far,  and  every  one  seemed  interested  in  Dennis. 

The  Irishman  towered  above  them  all,  bringing  dead- 
wood  for  the  fires. 

The  feast  was  eaten  on  the  ground,  and  the  people 
were  merry,  all  wondering  what  story  Dennis,  who  had 
been  to  the  army  and  seen  the  great  Washington  him- 
self, would  have  to  tell. 

The  people  watched  him  as  he  brought  great  logs  on 
his  shoulders  to  feed  the  fire  where  the  corn  was  roasted. 

Brother  Jonathan  and  his  good  wife  came  to  the  good- 
ly gathering.  The  people  arose  to  greet  him,  and  the 
children  gathered  around  him,  and  looked  up  to  him  as 
a  patriarch.     He  was  then  some  sixty-seven  years  old. 

After  the  feast  he  lifted  his  hands  and  spoke  to  the 
people.  The  cedar  birds  gathered  around  him  in  the  trees, 
and  one  adventurous  crow  came  near  and  cawed.  Dennis 
threw  a  stick  at  the  crow,  and  said: 

"  Be  civil  now,  and  listen  to  the  Governor !  " 

After  the  Governor  had  spoken,  "  Elder  "  Williams 
spoke.  But  it  was  from  Dennis  that  the  people  most 
wished  to  hear. 

They  called  upon  the  village  esquire  to  speak. 

He  was  a  portly  man.    He  arose  and  said: 

"  I  will  not  detain  you  long.  It  is  Dennis  for  whom 
you  are  waiting." 


THE  SECRET  OP  LAFAYETTE  183 

He  said  a  few  words,  and  then  called: 

"Dennis?    Dennis  O'Hay? " 

"At  your  service,"  said  Dennis,  drawing  near,  hat 
in  hand. 

"Dennis,  they  say  that  you  met  a  prophet  in  the 
army." 

"That  I  did,  sir,  and  I  mind  me  the  secret  of  the 
skies  is  in  his  heart." 

"How  did  he  look?" 

"  Oh,  he  was  a  skit  of  a  man,  with  a  slanting  roof  to 
his  forehead,  and  lean-to  at  the  back  of  it.  He  was  all 
covered  with  spangles  and  bangles,  and  he  followed  the 
great  Washington  here  and  there,  like  as  if  he  was  his 
own  son.    That  is  how  it  was,  sir." 

The  people  wondered.  This  was  not  the  kind  of  a 
prophet  that  Elder  Williams  had  preached  about  in  the 
Lebanon  pulpit  for  twoscore  years. 

The  elder  stood  up,  and  said:  "  Be  reverent,  my  young 
man." 

"That  I  am,  sir.  I  answered  the  esquire  after  the 
truth,  sir." 

"  And  what  made  you  think  that  such  a  frivolous-look- 
ing man  as  that  could  be  a  prophet?  Prophets  are  elderly 
men,  and  plain  in  their  dress  and  habits,  and  grave  in 
face.  Why  did  you  think  that  this  gay  young  man  was 
a  prophet?" 

"  Because,  your  reverence,  I  could  see  that  Washing- 
ton believed  in  him — the  great  Washington,  and  the  man 
prophesied,  too." 

"  To  whom  did  he  prophesy?  " 
13 


184  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"  To  me,  to  your  humble  servant,  sir." 

The  people  laughed  in  a  suppressive  way,  but  won- 
dered more  than  ever. 

"What  did  he  say,  Dennis? " 

"  That  I  can  never  tell,  sir.  He  has  a  woman's  heart, 
sir,  and  she  has  a  man's  heart,  sir,  and  both  have  the 
people's  heart,  sir;  and  one  day  there  will  be  fleets  on 
the  sea,  sir,  and  strange  armies  will  appear  on  our  shores, 
sir.  They  may  come  here,  sir,  and  encamp  in  the  cedars, 
sir.    Oh,  I  am  an  honest  man,  and  seem  to  see  it  all,  sir." 

"  How  old  is  your  prophet,  Dennis?  " 

"I  would  think  that  he  might  be  twenty,  sir;  no,  a 
hundred;  no,  as  old  as  liberty,  sir,  with  all  his  bangles 
and  spangles." 

"  That  is  very  strange,"  said  the  esquire.  "  I  fear  that 
you  may  have  wheels  in  your  head,  Dennis — ^were  any 
of  your  people  ever  a  little  touched  in  mind?" 

"  Ko,  never;  they  had  clear  heads.  An'  why  do  I  be- 
lieve that  this  young  man  carries  a  secret  in  his  heart 
that  will  deliver  America?  Because  he  has  the  heart  of 
the  mountaineers  of  God.  He  belongs  to  the  sons  of 
liberty  in  France,  and  little  he  cares  for  his  bangles  and 
spangles." 

"  But  he  is  too  young." 

"  ^0,  no ;  pardon  me,  sir,  he  has  an  ardent  heart,  that 
he  has.  It  is  all  on  fire.  Wasn't  David  young  when 
he  took  up  a  little  pebbly  rock  and  sent  the  giant  sprawl- 
ing? Wasn't  King  Alfred  young  when  he  put  down  his 
foot  and  planted  England?  Wasn't  Samuel  young  when 
he  heard  a  voice?  " 


THE  SECRET  OP  LAFAYETTE  185 

The  people  began  to  cheer  Dennis. 

"  The  true  heart  knows  its  own.  Washington's  heart 
does. 

"You  may  laugh,  but  I  have  met  a  prophet.  The 
gold  lace  on  him  does  not  spoil  his  heart.  He  comes  out 
of  the  past,  he  is  going  into  the  future;  he  loves  every- 
body, and  everybody  that  meets  him  loves  him.  Laugh  if 
you  will,  but  Dennis  O'Hay  has  seen  a  prophet,  and  you 
will  see  what  is  in  his  heart  some  day. 

"He  has  a  motto.  What  is  his  motto,  do  you  ask? 
Ovan-saan-tarche ! — Ovan  without  a  stain.  That  is  the 
motto  of  the  soldiers  of  the  place  where  he  was  born. 
That  place  is  like  this  place,  I  mind  me.  He  says: 
*  America  will  be  free  when  she  shall  hear  the  bugles 
of  Ovan.'  " 

"  What  is  his  name? "  asked  the  esquire. 

"His  name?  Bother  me  if  I  can  remember  it  now. 
It  is  the  same  as  the  boy  said.  But  you  will  come  to 
know  it  some  day,  now  heed  you  this  word  in  the  cedars. 
Lafayette — yes,  Lafayette — that  is  his  name.  It  is  writ- 
ten in  the  stars,  but  bother  me,  it  flies  away  from  me 
now  like  a  bird  from  a  wicker-cage.  But,  but,  hear  me, 
ye  good  folks  all,  receive  it.  Governor,  believe  it,  esquire 
— that  young  man's  heart  holds  the  secret  of  America. 
There  are  helpers  invisible  in  this  world,  and  the  heavens 
elect  men  for  their  work,  not  from  any  outward  appear- 
ance, but  from  the  heart.  This  is  the  way  God  elected 
David  of  old." 

A  blue  jay  had  been  listening  on  a  long  cedar  bough 
stretched  out  like  an  arm. 


186  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

She  archly  turned  her  head,  raised  her  crown  and 
gave  a  trumpet-call,  and  flew  over  the  people. 

The  men  shouted,  and  the  women  and  children 
cheered  Dennis,  and  the  grave  Governor  said: 

"  Life  is  self -revealing,  time  makes  clear  all  things, 
and  if  our  good  man  Dennis  has  indeed  discovered  a 
prophet,  it  will  all  be  revealed  to  us  some  day.  Elder 
Williams,  pray!  " 

The  old  man  stood  up  under  the  cedars;  the  women 
bowed.  Then  the  people  went  home  to  talk  of  the  strange 
tidings  that  Dennis  had  brought  them. 

Was  there,  indeed,  some  hidden  secret  of  personal 
power  in  the  heart  of  this  young  companion  of  Wash- 
ington, who  had  made  honor  his  motto  and  liberty  his 
star? 


CHAPTEK   Xn 

LAFAYETTE   TELLS   HIS   SECEET 

Theee  is  one  part  of  the  career  of  young  Lafayette 
that  has  never  been  brought  into  clear  light,  and  that 
part  was  decisive  in  the  destinies  of  America.  It  was 
his  letters  home.  From  the  time  of  his  commission 
as  an  officer  in  the  American  army  he  was  constantly 
writing  to  French  ministers,  asking  them  to  use  their 
influence  to  send  aid  to  America. 

He  had  the  favor  of  the  court,  and  the  heart  of  the 
popular  and  almost  adored  Queen.  He  felt  that  his  let- 
ters must  bring  to  America  a  fleet.  He  poured  his  heart 
into  them. 

The  surrender  of  Burgoyne  brought  about  a  treaty 
between  France  and  the  United  States.  It  was  one  of 
alliance  and  amity.  France  recognized  the  United  States 
among  the  powers  of  the  world,  and  received  Dr.  Benja- 
min Franklin  as  minister  plenipotentiary  to  the  court. 

For  this  great  movement  the  letters  of  Lafayette  had 
helped  to  prepare  the  way. 

H!is  heart  rejoiced  when  he  found  that  this  point  of 
vantage  had  been  gained. 

He  was  the  first  to  receive  the  news  of  the  treaty. 

187 


188  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

He  went  witli  the  tidings  to  "Washington.  It  revealed 
to  the  strong  leader  the  future. 

Washington  was  a  man  of  silence,  but  his  heart  was 
touched;  a  sense  of  gratitude  to  Heaven  seemed  to  in- 
spire him. 

"  Let  public  thanksgivings  of  gratitude  ascend  to 
Heaven,"  he  said.  "  Assemble  the  brigades,  and  let  us 
return  thanks  to  God." 

The  brigades  were  assembled.  The  cannon  boomed! 
Songs  of  joy  arose  and  prayers  were  said. 

Then  a  great  shout  went  up  that  thrilled  the  young 
heart  of  Lafayette. 

"  Vive  le  roi! — Long  live  the  King  of  France!  " 

That  thanksgiving  set  the  bells  of  New  England  to 
ringing,  and  was  a  means  of  recruiting  the  army  every- 
where. 

Lafayette  heard  the  news  with  a  full  heart,  and  he 
himself  only  knew  how  much  he  had  done  silently  to  re- 
new the  contest  for  liberty. 

Congress  began  to  see  his  value.  They  honored  him, 
and  that  gave  him  the  influence  to  say: 

"  I  came  here  for  the  cause.  I  must  return'to  France 
for  the  cause." 

He  said  of  this  crisis,  and  we  use  his  own  words  here : 

"  From  the  moment  I  first  heard  the  name  of  America, 
I  began  to  love  her;  from  the  moment  I  understood  that 
she  was  struggling  for  her  liberties,  I  burned  to  shed  my 
best  blood  in  her  cause,  and  the  days  I  shall  devote  to  the 
service  of  America,  whatever  and  wherever  it  may  be, 
will  constitute  the  happiest  of  my  life.    I  never  so  ardent- 


LAFAYETTE  TELLS  HIS  SECRET  189 

ly  desired  as  I  do  now  to  deserve  the  generous  sentiments 
with  which  these  States  and  their  representatives  have 
honored  me." 

He  obtained  from  Congress  permission  to  return  to 
France  in  the  interest  of  the  cause  of  liberty. 

It  was  1778.  He  had  arrived  on  the  American  shores 
a  mere  boy  and  a  stranger.  Now  that  he  returned  to 
France,  the  hearts  of  all  Americans  followed  him.  He 
was  twenty-two  years  of  age.  He  was  carrying  a  secret 
with  him  that  he  was  beginning  to  reveal  and  that  the 
world  was  beginning  to  see. 

In  serving  the  cause  of  the  States  he  felt  that  he  was 
promoting  the  cause  of  the  liberty  of  mankind.  France 
might  one  day  feel  its  reaction,  burst  her  old  bonds,  and 
become  a  giant  republic. 

France  arose  to  meet  him  on  his  return.  Havre  threw 
out  her  banners  to  welcome  his  ship.  He  was  acclaimed, 
feasted,  and  lauded  everywhere,  until  he  longed  to  fly 
to  some  retreat  from  all  of  this  adoration  of  a  simple 
young  general. 

The  Queen,  Marie  Antoinette,  admired  him,  and  be- 
came his  patron.  She  received  him  and  delighted  to  hear 
from  him  about  America  and  the  character  of  Washing- 
ton. Lafayette  delighted  the  Queen  with  his  story  of 
Washington. 

After  these  interviews,  in  which  Lafayette  saw  that 
he  had  secured  her  favor  for  the  American  cause,  the 
Queen  had  an  interview  with  Dr.  Franklin. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  the  Queen  to  Franklin,  "  that 
Lafayette  has  really  made  me  fall  in  love  with  your  Gen- 


190  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

eral  Washington.  "What  a  man  he  must  be,  and  what 
a  friend  he  has  in  the  Marquis !  " 

The  court  opened  its  doors  to  meet  him.  The  King 
welcomed  him.  All  Paris  acclaimed  him.  The  people 
of  France  were  all  eager  to  hear  of  him. 

What  an  opportunity!  Lafayette  seized  upon  it. 
He  was  not  moved  by  the  flattery  of  France.  Every 
heart-beat  was  full  of  his  purposes  to  secure  aid  for 
America. 

This  he  did. 

"  I  will  send  a  fleet  to  America,"  said  the  King. 

The  young  King  was  popular  then,  and  this  decision 
won  for  him  the  heart  of  liberty-enkindled  France. 

Lafayette's  heart  turned  home  to  the  heroic  moun- 
taineers. 

"  If  it  can  be  done,"  he  said  to  the  military  depart- 
ment, "  let  there  be  sent  to  America  the  soldiers  of 
Auvergne,  they  of  the  banners  of  '  Auvergne  sans 
tache.'  " 

Two  hundred  young  noblemen  offered  their  services 
to  Lafayette. 

He  left  France  for  America.  Banquet-halls  vied  with 
each  other  in  farewells. 

But  the  night  glitter  of  the  palaces  were  as  noth- 
ing to  the  words  of  the  young  King :  "  You  can  not 
better  serve  your  King  than  by  serving  the  cause  of 
America !  " 

He  left  France  in  tears,  to  be  welcomed  by  shouts  of 
joy  in  America. 

He  brought  back  the  news  to  Washington  that  hence- 


LAFAYETTE  TELLS  HIS  SECRET  191 

forth  the  cause  of  America  and  France  were  one,  and 
that  he  hoped  soon  to  welcome  here  the  grenadiers  of 
Auvergne — "  Auvergne  sans  tache !  " — the  bugles  of  Au- 
vergne ! 

Peter  brought  the  message  that  announced  this  great 
news  to  the  war  office. 

The  Governor's  face  lighted  when  the  boy  appeared 
at  the  door. 

"What  is  it  now?"  he  asked.  "You  always  bring 
joy  to  my  heart!  " 

"France  in  alliance,"  said  the  Governor.  "May 
France  herself  live  to  become  a  republic.  And  the 
Queen  has  espoused  our  cause !  " 

Peter  went  from  the  office  with  heart  full  of  joy. 
Good  news  from  the  seat  of  war  made  his  heart  as  light 
as  a  bird — it  made  him  whittle  and  whistle. 

Out  in  the  cold,  watching  nights,  Peter's  heart  turned 
to  the  wood-chopper,  who  had  seemed  to  love  the  King 
more  than  him.  He  felt  that  the  old  man  must  be  lonely 
in  his  cabin,  with  only  the  blue  jays  and  the  squirrels, 
and  the  like  to  cheer  him.  Peter  could  seem  to  hear  him 
chop,  chop,  chopping  wood. 

He  met  him  once  in  the  way,  and  the  old  man  talked 
of  the  King — "  my  king." 

"  He  is  only  a  man,"  said  Peter,  in  defense  of  the 
cause. 

"  Only  a  man?  "  said  the  wood-chopper.  "  His  arms 
are  like  the  lion  and  unicorn — and  they  have  taken 
down  the  King's  arms  in  Philadelphia  and  overturned 
his  statue  in  New  York.     But  the  lion  and  the  uni- 


192  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

corn  still  stand  on  the  old  State-house,  Boston.  Hur- 
rah for  King  George  III!  Thej  may  do  what  they  will 
with  me,  but  my  heart  will  still  say :  '  Long  live  the 
King! '  " 

He  seemed  to  think  that  the  King  wore  a  real  lion 
and  unicorn  on  his  arms,  or  to  so  imagine  him. 

Poor  old  man  on  the  by-way  of  the  Lebanon  cedars! 
Peter  pitied  him,  for  he  felt  that  he  had,  after  all,  a 
very  human  heart. 

Dennis  went  again  to  the  camp  of  Washington  to  con- 
fer with  the  General  in  regard  to  movements  of  powder, 
and  there  he  saw  Lafayette. 

The  Frenchman,  indeed,  did  not  look  like  a  prophet 
now,  nor  like  one  of  the  yeomen  of  the  hill-towns  of 
Connecticut. 

He  was  in  command  of  the  advance  guard  of  Wash- 
ington's army  (1780),  composed  of  six  battalions  of  light 
artillery.  These  men  glittered  in  the  sun.  They  did  not 
look  like  Connecticut  volunteers.  The  officers  were  armed 
with  spontoons  and  fuses;  they  wore  sabres — French  sa- 
bres, presented  them  by  Lafayette.  Their  banners  shone. 
Their  horses  were  proud. 

"  An'  I  fear  I  have  missed  my  prophet  that  I  cal- 
culated him  to  be,"  said  Dennis,  "  and  that  the 
cedar  folks  will  all  laugh  at  me.  Prophets  do  not  dash 
about  in  such  finery  as  this.  There  he  comes,  sure,  on 
a  spanking  horse.  I  wonder  if  he  would  speak  to 
me  now." 

The  young  Frenchman  came  dashing  by  in  his  re- 
galia. 


LAFAYETTE  TELLS  HIS  SECRET  193 

Dennis  lifted  his  hat. 

Lafayette  halted. 

"  I  came  from  the  cedars — Brother  Jonathan's  man, 
that  I  am.    You  remember  Ovan-saan-tarche." 

"Yes,  yes,  my  hearty  friend,"  said  the  Frenchman, 
bowing. 

"  How  is  his  Excellency?  " 

"  Sound  in  head  and  heart,  and  firm  in  his  heels,  which 
he  never  turns  to  his  country's  enemies." 

"  Have  you  a  wife,  my  friend  ?  "  bowing. 

"  No,  no,  but  I've  a  sweetheart  in  old  Ireland." 

"  Happy  man !  "  bowing. 

"  But  I  go  my  way  alone  now." 

"  Lucky  dog!  "  said  the  Marquis,  with  provincial  rude- 
ness, bowing  and  bowing. 

"  And  there  is  one  question  which  I  wish  to  ask 
you.  I  have  been  telling  the  home  people  that  you 
are  a  prophet,  and  not  much  like  an  old  prophet  do 
you  look  now — pardon  me,  your  Honor.  You  once 
told  me  that  you  carried  a  secret  in  your  heart  that 
was  to  free  America.  Do  you  carry  that  secret 
now  ? " 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  friend,  from  the  cedars.  The  French 
fleet  came ;  that  was  a  part  of  my  secret.  But  I  am  carry- 
ing a  greater  one.  You  will  soon  hear  the  bugles  of 
Auvergne.  When  you  hear  the  bugles  of  Auvergne,  then 
you  will  believe  that  my  soul  is  true  to  America.  Dennis, 
let  me  take  your  hand." 

He  took  the  Irishman's  hand,  bowing. 

"  There  is  true  blood  in  that  hand,"  bowing. 


194  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"  There  is  true  blood  in  yours,"  said  Dennis,  "  and  the 
secret  of  the  skies  is  in  your  soul." 

"And  there  are  two  crowns  in  that  secret  and  the 
heart  of  France.  And  one  of  the  crowns  is  a  woman's — 
a  glorious  woman's.  Oh,  Dennis,  you  should  see  our 
Queen!     She  admires  Washington,  she  loves  America!" 

Dennis  dropped  down  on  his  knees. 

The  glittering  Frenchman  rode  away,  bowing  to  the 
prostrate  man. 

"  An'  I  do  believe  he  is  a  prophet,  after  all,"  said 
Dennis. 

It  would  be  great  news  that  he  would  have  to  take 
back  to  Lebanon  now.  How  that  French  prophet  bowed 
and  bowed  to  him. 

His  heart  rejoiced  to  bear  good  news  to  the  Gov- 
ernor. 

Peter,  as  we  have  said,  delighted  in  bringing  the  Gov- 
ernor good  news.  One  day  he  was  sent  to  Boston  for 
letters  which  were  expected  to  arrive  from  England.  One 
was  given  him  for  the  Governor  which  was  marked  "  Im- 
portant." He  hurried  back  to  the  war  oflBce  with  it,  run- 
ning his  spirited  horse  much  of  the  way. 

He  delivered  the  letter  to  the  Governor,  in  the  war 
office. 

"  Wait !  "  said  the  Governor,  as  he  was  about  to  go. 

The  Governor  read  the  letter,  and  then  walked  around 
and  around  in  the  little  room. 

"  It  is  from  my  son  John,"  said  he.  "  He  has  been 
arrested  in  London,  and  is  in  prison."  The  Governor 
continued  to  walk  in  the  room. 


LAFAYETTE  TELLS  HIS  SECRET  195 

John  Trumbull  had  gone  abroad  in  1780,  to  study 
painting  under  the  great  master,  Benjamin  West.  The 
British  Secretary  for  American  Affairs  had  assured  him 
that  he  would  be  protected  as  an  artist  if  he  did  not 
interfere  in  political  affairs. 

Colonel  Trumbull  once  thus  related  the  story  of  his 
arrest  in  a  vivid  way: 

"A  thunderbolt  falling  at  my  feet  would  not  have 
been  more  astounding;  for,  conscious  of  having  done  noth- 
ing politically  wrong,  I  had  become  as  confident  of  safety 
in  London  as  I  should  have  been  in  Lebanon.  For  a  few 
moments  I  was  perfectly  disconcerted,  and  must  have 
looked  very  like  a  guilty  man.  I  saw,  in  all  its  force, 
the  folly  and  the  audacity  of  having  placed  myself  at  ease 
in  the  lion's  den;  but  by  degrees  I  recovered  my  self- 
possession,  and  conversed  with  Mr.  Bond,  who  waited  for 
the  return  of  Mr.  Tyler  until  past  one  o'clock.  He  then 
asked  for  my  papers,  put  them  carefully  under  cover, 
which  he  sealed,  and  desired  me  also  to  seal;  having  done 
this,  he  conducted  me  to  a  lock-up  house,  the  Brown 
Bear  in  Drury  Lane,  opposite  to  the  (then)  police  office. 
Here  I  was  locked  into  a  room,  in  which  was  a  bed,  and 
a  strong,  well-armed  officer,  for  the  companion  of  my 
night's  meditations  or  rest.  The  windows,  as  well  as  the 
door,  were  strongly  secured  by  iron  bars  and  bolts,  and 
seeing  no  possible  means  of  making  my  retreat,  I  yielded 
to  my  fate,  threw  myself  upon  the  bed,  and  endeavored 
to  rest. 

"  At  eleven  o'clock  the  next  morning  I  was  guarded 
across  the  street,  through  a  crowd  of  curious  idlers,  to  the 


196  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

office,  and  placed  in  the  presence  of  the  three  police  magis- 
trates— Sir  Sampson  Wright,  Mr.  Addington,  and  an- 
other. The  examination  began,  and  was  at  first  con- 
ducted in  a  style  so  offensive  to  my  feelings  that  it  soon 
roused  me  from  my  momentary  weakness,  and  I  sud- 
denly exclaimed :  "  You  appear  to  have  been  much  more 
habituated  to  the  society  of  highwaymen  and  pick- 
pockets than  to  that  of  gentlemen.  I  will  put  an  end 
to  all  this  insolent  folly  by  telling  you  frankly  who 
and  what  I  am.  I  am  an  American — my  name  is 
Trumbull;  I  am  a  son  of  him  whom  you  call  the  rebel 
Governor  of  Connecticut ;  I  have  served  in  the  rebel 
American  army;  I  have  had  the  honor  of  being  an 
aide-de-camp  to  him  whom  you  call  the  rebel  General 
Washington." 

He  had  said  too  much;  he  slept  that  night  "  in  a  bed 
with  a  highwayman." 

"  This  is  not  your  accustomed  good  news,  my  boy," 
said  the  Governor. 

"Another  ship  with  letters  is  soon  expected  in  the 
fort,"  said  Peter.     "  That  may  bring  good  news." 

"  Peter,  I  love  the  bearer  of  good  news.  Go  back  to 
Boston,  and  if  you  bring  me  news  to  comfort  me,  it  is 
well;  if  not,  you  will  have  done  your  duty.  Ride  with 
the  wind!  "     These  were  common  words  of  hurry. 

Peter  rode  with  the  wind.  In  a  few  days  he  returned 
on  a  foaming  horse  to  the  war  office. 

The  Governor  met  him. 

"  He  is  released !  "  said  the  boy. 

The  Governor  stood  with  beaming  face. 


LAFAYETTE  TELLS  HIS  SECRET  197 

Presently  an  old  man  came  hobbling  up  to  the  door. 
It  was  the  wood-chopper. 

He  looked  up  to  Peter  helplessly  and  yet  with  a  glow 
of  pride  and  gratitude. 

"  Boy,"  he  said,  "  I  turned  you  out,  but  you  came 
back  in  my  hour  of  danger.  Is  there  any  news  from  the 
King? " 

"  Yes,  uncle." 

"What  may  it  be?" 

"He  is  going  to  spare  John  Trumbull's  life  and  set 
him  free." 

The  old  man  staggered. 

"Hurrah  for  King  George!"  he  said.  "My  king! 
my  king!  " 

He  sunk  down  on  the  grass.    "  My  king!  my  king!  " 

That  the  reader  may  have  the  exact  truth  of  this  bit 
of  fact-fiction,  let  me  give  you  the  anecdote  from  history, 
that  so  finely  reveals  the  better  side  of  the  character  of 
the  half-insane  old  King. 

Benjamin  West,  on  hearing  of  the  arrest  of  his  pupil, 
went  directly  to  the  King  in  Buckingham  Palace,  and 
asked  for  the  young  American  painter's  release. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  the  young  man,"  said  his  Majesty 
George  III,  "  but  he  is  in  the  hands  of  the  law,  and  must 
abide  the  result;  I  can  not  interpose.  Do  you  know 
whether  his  parents  are  living?  " 

"  I  think  I  have  heard  him  say,"  replied  Mr.  West, 
"  that  he  has  very  lately  received  news  of  the  death  of 
his  mother;  I  believe  his  father  is  living." 

"  I  pity  him  from  my  soul !  "  exclaimed  the  King. 


198  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"  But,  West,"  said  he,  after  musing  for  a  few  moments, 
"go  to  Mr.  Trumbull  immediately,  and  pledge  to  Lim 
mj  royal  promise,  that,  in  the  worst  possible  event  of  the 
law,  his  life  shall  he  safe !  " 

"  I  pity  him  from  my  soul !  "  The  poor  King  had 
a  heart  to  feel.  This  is  the  most  beautiful  anecdote  of 
King  George  that  we  have  ever  found. 


CHAPTER   Xm 

THE    BUGLES    BLOW 

A  HIGH  sound  of  bugles  rang  out  in  the  still  sum- 
mer air. 

It  stopped  all  feet  in  the  country  of  the  cedars — it 
seemed  as  though  the  world  stopped  to  listen. 

Again  the  tone  filled  the  summer  air — nearer. 

The  ospreys  and  crows  were  flying  high  in  air,  down 
the  odorous  way  where  the  bugles  were  blowing. 

Again,  and  nearer. 

Were  the  bugles  those  of  Rochambeau,  who  had  land- 
ed at  Newport,  or  of  a  troop  of  the  enemy  coming  to 
surprise  the  town? 

It  was  a  time  of  expectancy,  and  also  of  terror. 

Why  of  terror? 

It  was  known  that  Rochambeau  had  landed  at  New- 
port, and  was  coming  to  Lebanon — it  was  in  the  air.  He 
would  stop  at  Newport,  and  it  was  believed  that  Wash- 
ington would  go  there  to  meet  him.  Washington  might 
go  by  way  of  New  London  and  Lebanon  or  over  the  great 
turnpike  road  of  Massachusetts  and  Connecticut;  but  what- 
ever way  he  might  take,  it  was  believed  that  he  would 
stop  in  the  hidden  Connecticut  town. 

14  199 


200  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

One  day  a  courier  had  come  to  the  alarm-post. 

"  Are  the  ways  guarded  ?  "  he  asked.  "  There  is  a  plot 
to  capture  Washington  if  he  makes  a  progress  to  meet 
Kochambeau." 

"  Let  us  go  to  the  war  office  and  consider  the  matter/' 
said  the  Governor. 

"  If  the  matter  is  serious,  I  will  bring  it  before  the 
Committee  of  Safety." 

They  considered  the  matter.  The  Governor  was 
alarmed,  and  he  said  to  Peter: 

"  Leave  the  store  and  go  back  to  your  post  on  the 
by-road." 

The  danger  at  this  time  is  thus  treated  in  Sparks's  Life 
of  Trumbull: 

"  Intelligence  had  come  from  New  York  that  three 
hundred  horsemen  had  crossed  over  to  Long  Island  and 
proceeded  eastward,  and  that  boats  at  the  same  time  had 
been  sent  up  the  Sound.  It  was  inferred  that  the  party 
would  pass  from  Long  Island  to  Connecticut  and  at- 
tempt to  intercept  General  Washington  on  his  way  to 
Newport,  as  it  was  supposed  his  intended  journey  was 
known  to  the  enemy.  Lafayette  suggested  that  the  Duke 
de  Lauzun  should  be  informed  of  this  movement  as  soon 
as  possible,  that  he  might  be  prepared  with  his  cavalry, 
then  stationed  at  Lebanon,  to  repel  the  invaders." 

There  had  landed  at  Newport  with  Rochambeau  a 
most  brilliant  French  officer  of  cavalry,  who  was  destined 
to  become  the  general-in-chief  of  the  Army  of  the  Rhine, 
and  to  lose  his  head  in  the  French  Revolution.  It  was 
the  Duke  de  Lauzun,  born  in  Paris,   1747.     He  com- 


THE  BUGLES  BLOW  201 

manded  a  force  known  as  Lauzun's  Legion,  whicli  con- 
sisted of  some  six  hundred  Hussars,  with  the  French  en- 
thusiasm for  liberty.  They  were  well  equipped,  wore 
brilliant  uniforms,  and  bore  the  banners  of  heroes. 

The  alarm-post  became  the  seat  of  numerous  orders; 
the  roads  were  dusty  with  hurrying  feet. 

The  people  met  on  the  green  as  soon  as  the  bugles 
were  heard. 

Peter  was  there.  He  heard  the  bugles  ring  out,  and 
cried: 

"  Auvergne !     They  are  the  bugles  of  Auvergne !  " 

Dennis  listened  as  the  air  rung  merrily. 

"  Yes,  Peter,  those  are  the  bugles  of  Auvergne." 

Faith  Trumbull  came  out  and  stood  on  the  green  be- 
side Peter. 

"Do  you  think  those  are  the  French  bugles?"  she 
asked.    "  If  so,  the  cause  is  saved." 

An  advance  horseman,  a  Hussar,  came  riding  up  the 
hill.    The  bugles  blew  behind  him,  now  near  to  the  town. 

"The  Duke  is  at  hand,"  said  he  in  French. 

The  people  sank  upon  their  knees. 

The  Governor  heard  and  stood  like  a  statue  on  the 
green. 

"  They  are  coming!  "  he  said.  "  They  are  on  the  way 
of  victory  I  " 

Six  hundred  horsemen,  glittering  in  insignia,  banners, 
and  trappings,  swept  into  the  town,  and  their  dashing 
leader,  the  Duke  de  Lauzun,  threw  up  his  hand  and  took 
off  his  hat  before  the  war  oflSce.  No  one  had  ever  dreamed 
of  a  scene  like  that. 


202  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

The  people  gathered  around  him  uncovered.  The 
farmers  shouted.  Children  danced  in  the  natural  way; 
old  men  wept. 

Dennis  approached  a  French  officer  who  could  speak 
English. 

"  An'  have  you  been  blowing  the  bugles  of  Au- 
vergne?  "  asked  he,  hat  in  hand. 

"  You  may  well  call  them  so,"  said  the  courtly  officer. 
"The  bugles  of  Auvergne  are  the  heralds  of  victory!  " 

"  The  cause  of  liberty  in  America  is  won,"  said  Dennis. 
"  Lafayette  said  it  would  be  so  when  the  French  bugles 
should  blow." 

Peter  fell  down  on  the  green  and  wept  like  a  child, 
saying,  over  and  over:  "The  bugles  of  Auvergne!  The 
bugles  of  Auvergne!  " 

It  was  a  glorious  day.  The  very  earth  seemed  to  be 
glad. 

The  Hussars  sat  for  a  time  on  their  restless  horses, 
surveying  a  scene  unusual  to  their  eyes.  That  simple 
church  was  not  K^otre  Dame;  the  Governor's  house  Avas 
not  the  Tuileries,  nor  Versailles,  nor  Marley,  nor  Saint 
Cloud.  The  green  was  not  the  Saint  Cloud  garden,  the 
people  were  not  courtiers.  Yet  their  hearts  glowed.  They 
saluted  the  simple  Governor. 

Then  the  bugles  blew  again — the  bugles  of  Auvergne, 
and  a  great  sound  rent  the  air. 

The  Hussars  went  to  the  fields  for  quarters,  and  the 
Duke  followed  the  Governor  into  the  war  office  to  "  con- 
sider." 

Washington  came  to  Connecticut  in  safety.     He  re- 


THE  BUGLES  BLOW  203 

viewed  the  army  on  Lebanon  green  and  at  Hartford. 
Near  Hartford  he  planned  the  campaign  in  Virginia  that 
was  to  end  the  war. 

"AUVERGNE  SANS  TACHE  "— AUVERGNE  WITHOUT 
A  STAIN 

This  motto  a  part  of  the  French  soldiers  bore  proudly 
wherever  they  went.  They  carried  it  out  of  France  with 
shoutings,  and  trailed  it  across  the  sea.  They  bore  it  into 
Newport  amid  booming  guns,  and  to  Lebanon  amid  the 
shouts  of  the  heroic  farmers.  They  planted  it  on  Leb- 
anon green.  It  should  be  put  to-day  among  the  mottoes 
of  schools  for  Flag  days  and  Independence  days. 

That  day  of  review — it  may  well  rise  again  in  our 
fancy ! 

Spring  is  in  the  air.  The  birds  in  the  woods  are 
appearing  again.  There  is  new  light  and  odors  in  the 
cedars. 

The  French  heroes  of  Auvergne,  the  mountaineers, 
whose  aid  Lafayette  had  sought,  assembled  on  the  green. 
On  one  side  of  the  green  was  the  tavern,  and  on  the  other 
side  rose  the  country  village  church.  The  hills  every- 
where were  renewing  their  circle  of  green. 

Eochambeau  was  there  with  the  escutcheon.  The 
Marquis  de  Chastelleux  was  probably  there — a  man  of 
genius,  who  wielded  the  pen  of  a  painter.  The  gay,  and 
perhaps  profane,  Duke  de  Lauzun  was  there — he  who 
laughed  at  the  Governor's  prayers  at  the  table,  and  who 
died  many  years  afterward  on  the  guillotine.  Men  were 
there  who  had  sought  the  animal  delights  of  the  glittering 


204  -         BROTHER  JONATHAN 

palaces  of  Versailles,  Marley,  and  Saint  Cloud.  The 
heroes  were  there  whose  descendants  made  France  a  re- 
public. 

The  sun  rose  high  on  the  glittering  hills.  The  bugles 
sounded  again,  horses  neighed  and  pranced,  uniforms  glit- 
tered, and  the  band  filled  the  air  with  choral  strains. 

The  simple  country  folks  gathered  about  the  green, 
bringing  "  training-daj  "  ginger-bread,  women  with  knit- 
ted hoods,  boys  and  girls  in  homespun. 

The  cedar  of  Lebanon  was  there — Governor  Trum- 
bull— and  his  wife,  also,  more  noble  than  most  of  the 
stately  dames  of  Trianon. 

The  American  flag  arose,  and  was  hailed  as  the  flag  of 
the  future. 

A  shout  for  honor  went  up  in  which  all  joined.  The 
hearts  of  the  French  heroes  and  American  heroes  were 
one.  Honor  and  liberty  was  the  sentiment  that  ruled  the 
hour,  and  here  the  pioneers  of  liberty  of  the  two  republics 
of  the  future  clasped  hands. 

A  glorious  day,  indeed,  was  that!  Keep  it  in  eternal 
memory,  O  Lebanon  hills !  Make  your  old  graves  a  place 
of  pilgrimages.  Sons  of  the  Revolution,  have  you  ever 
visited  Lebanon? 

There  came  an  August  night,  misty  and  still.  A  cloud 
covered  the  hills,  and  seemed  to  fall  down  like  a  lake  on 
the  cedar  swamp.     The  few  distant  stars  went  out. 

It  lightened — "  heat  lightning,"  as  the  lightning  with- 
out thunder  was  called  in  the  old  New  England  villages. 

The  turnpike  road  was  silent.  There  were  no  sounds 
of  night-birds  in  the  deep  cedar  swamps. 


THE  BUGLES  BLOW  205 

Peter,  the  shepherd-boy,  stood  behind  his  window  light 
in  silence  under  a  cedar  that  spread  itself  like  a  tent. 
The  tree  gathered  mist  and  shed  it  like  rain.  He  had 
put  a  mask  in  the  window,  for  fear  of  a  shot,  in  case 
of  danger. 

"  Nothing  to-night,"  he  said. 

But  what  was  that? 

A  dead  twig  of  a  tree  broke  under  a  foot. 

He  started  and  moved  behind  the  window  toward  the 
highway. 

Another  twig  snapped. 

**  Who  goes  there  ?  "  he  called. 

"A  friend." 

"  Give  the  countersign." 

"  Groton,"  said  the  voice. 

"Wrong,"  said  the  lad.  "Follow  the  window,  but 
keep  at  a  distance,  for  you  are  my  prisoner." 

It  lightened.  The  lad  saw  the  man,  and  that  he  was 
no  ordinary  traveler. 

The  lad  moved  back.  The  traveler  followed,  and  pres- 
ently said: 

"Hello!  where  am  I?" 

"  A  prisoner;  follow  me." 

"  But  the  house  moves." 

"  Follow  me — ^you  are  in  my  power." 

It  lightened  again. 

The  flash  disclosed  that  the  traveler  had  drawn  a  pistol. 

"  It  is  useless  for  you  to  use  weapons,"  said  Peter; 
"you  are  in  my  power." 

There  was  a  crack  in  the  air.    A  pistol-shot  struck  the 


206  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

mask  in  the  window  and  broke  it.  Then  all  was  dark- 
ness and  silence. 

"  Follow  me,"  said  the  lad.  "  Your  shot  was  vain. 
You  are  a  traitor,  and  you  are  in  my  power.  I  could 
take  your  life  in  a  minute.    Follow  me." 

"  But  your  house  moves,"  said  the  man  in  a  voice  that 
trembled. 

He  may  have  had  a  brave  heart,  but  few  brave  men 
at  that  time  were  proof  against  the  terrors  of  superstition. 
The  man  evidently  believed  that  he  was  in  the  power 
of  some  evil  spirit. 

There  was  another  lightning  flash.  The  man  had 
turned. 

"  Follow  me,"  said  the  lad,  "  or  you  are  a  dead  man." 

"  Will  you  spare  me  if  I  will  follow  ? "  asked  the  ad- 
venturer. 

"  Follow  me  until  I  tell  you  to  stop,  and  I  will  be  your 
friend  if  you  speak  fair." 

The  steps  followed  the  moving  window  at  a  distance. 
Suddenly  they  went  down,  and  there  arose  a  cry  as  of 
a  penned  animal.     The  man  had  fallen  into  a  cave. 

The  moving  window  went  up  the  hill  in  sight  of  the 
alarm-post,  and  then  the  light  went  out. 

Peter  went  down  in  the  darkness  to  the  rescue  of  the 
fallen  stranger. 

"Where  am  I?"  asked  the  stranger. 

"  In  the  cave." 

"In  the  cave  of  the  magazine?" 

The  stranger  had  asked  the  question  in  an  unguarded 
moment  of  terror. 


THE  BUGLES  BLOW  207 

"You  are  a  spy,  and  were  seeking  for  the  maga- 
zines," said  the  boy.  "  I  know  your  heart.  Let  me 
help  you  out,  and  come  with  me  to  the  shelter  of  the 
cedars." 

Peter  took  the  stranger's  hand,  and  led  him  by  flashes 
of  lightning  to  a  covert  under  the  cedars.  Some  crows 
cawed  in  the  darkness  above. 

The  two  sat  down. 

"  You  are  in  my  power,"  said  Peter. 

"  Then  you  must  be  the  Evil  One.  Why  am  I  in  your 
power  more  than  you  in  mine?  Do  you  live  in  a  house 
that  travels?    Where  has  your  house  gone?" 

"  Tell  me,  now,  who  you  are,"  said  Peter. 

"  I  am  a  traveler." 

"Why  did  you  give  me  a  false  countersign?" 

"  To  put  you  off  so  that  I  might  go  on." 

"  Who  are  you  seeking?  " 

"  I  was  going  to  the  war  office." 

"For  what?" 

"  To  see  the  Governor." 

"  But  why  did  you  say  '  magazine  '  ?  " 

"  I  deal  in  saltpeter." 

The  clouds  were  lifting.  The  great  cedars  seemed  to 
shudder  now  and  then  as  a  faint  breeze  stole  through  them. 
Then  the  full  moon  rolled  out.  The  crows  flapped  away 
from  the  place  when  they  heard  voices. 

"  Let  us  go,"  said  the  man.  "  For  what  are  you  wait- 
ing? " 

There  was  a  sound  of  horses'  feet.  Dennis  had  seen 
the  signal. 


208  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"  Who  is  coming?  "  asked  the  man. 

"  The  guard." 

"  So  you  have  entrapped  me.    Where  is  the  house? " 

"  There  was  none." 

Dennis  and  two  men  rode  up. 

"  This  man,"  said  Peter,  "  is  a  spy;  he  has  given  a 
false  countersign,  and  is  looking  for  magazines." 

"Who  are  you?"  demanded  Dennis,  with  a  leveled 
musket. 

"  I  am  your  prisoner,"  said  the  man,  "  and  more  is  the 
pity.  I  have  been  tricked.  I  followed  a  window;  it  is 
gone." 

"  Stranger,  no  trifling,"  said  Dennis.  "  What  brought 
you  here?  If  you  will  tell  me  the  truth,  I  will  befriend 
you  as  far  as  I  can.  But  listen:  you  have  no  hope  of 
anything  outside  of  my  friendly  heart,  and  I  am  one  of 
the  guard  of  the  first  of  patriots  in  the  land.  I  am  an 
Irishman,  but  I  am  loyal  to  America.  Tell  me  the  truth 
— ^what  brought  you  here  ?  " 

"  You  speak  true  when  you  say  that  I  have  no  hope 
but  in  your  heart,  and  I  am  inclined  to  tell  you  all." 

Dennis  and  the  two  men  whom  he  had  brought  with 
him  dismounted,  and  sat  down  under  the  cedars,  through 
which  the  moon  shone. 

"  I  was  led  here  through  the  suggestion  of  a  bad  ex- 
ample. We  are  led  by  the  imagination.  Imagination 
follows  suggestion.  Benedict  Arnold  went  over  to  the 
cause  of  the  King,  and  he  is  a  power  now.  I  once  served 
under  Arnold.  It  was  in  the  northern  campaign.  I  will 
acknowledge  all.     I  am  seeking  to  do  him  a  service — to 


THE  BUGLES  BLOW  209 

find  out  where  your  powder  magazines  are  stored.  Ar- 
nold will  soon  be  thundering  off  this  coast  I  " 

Dennis  started. 

"What!  in  Connecticut?" 

"  Yes,  in  Connecticut." 

"  Among  his  own  Mn?  " 

"  Among  his  own  kin." 

"Black  must  be  the  heart  of  a  man  that  would  fall 
upon  his  own  neighborhood.  Such  a  heart  must  be  born 
wrong.  They  say  that  he  liked  to  torture  animals  when 
he  was  a  boy.  Man,  what  do  you  know?  Remember  the 
fate  of  Andre." 

The  man  suddenly  recollected  it.  He  began  to  shake, 
for  with  the  rising  of  the  moon  and  the  clearing  of  the 
air  it  was  cool. 

"  I  know  not  where  I  am,"  said  he.  "  Everything  is 
strange.     But  let  me  talk  to  you  in  confidence. 

"  I  have  money." 

He  took  out  a  purse,  and  jingled  some  coin. 

"Let  me  go  and  I  will  pay  you.  Here,  take  this." 
He  extended  the  purse  toward  Dennis.  "  Let  me  go  back 
and  you  shall  have  it  all." 

"  Man,"  said  Dennis,  "  Andre  offered  gold  to  his  cap- 
tors, and  tried  to  bribe  them  to  let  him  go.  Put  up  thy 
gold.  There  is  money  that  does  not  enrich.  I  would 
not  betray  the  cause  of  liberty  in  America  and  the  great 
heart  of  Jonathan  Trumbull  for  all  the  gold  of  Peru. 
Tell  me  now  your  whole  heart,  or  I  take  you  to  the 
alarm-post,  to  be  shot  as  a  spy." 

The  man  shook. 


210  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

"  Well,  here  is  my  confession.  I  hoped  to  find  the 
secret  places  of  the  magazines  where  the  powder  that 
supplies  the  army  is  hidden,  and  to  report  to  Ar- 
nold. This  is  the  whole  truth.  I  am  sorry  for  what  I 
planned.  I  would  not  do  so  again.  ]^ow  I  ask  your 
mercy." 

"  To  Arnold,  did  you  say?  Where  did  you  expect  to 
meet  Arnold? " 

"  On  the  coast — it  might  be  at  ISTew  London  or 
Groton." 

"  When? " 

"  Soon. 

"  Soon,  soon.    Peter,  set  the  beacon  on  the  hill!  " 

The  boy  ran;  a  light  streamed  up.  Dennis  hurried 
with  his  prisoner  to  the  alarm-post. 

The  prisoner  knew  not  what  to  make  of  that  night 
when  windows  moved  and  a  shot  that  shattered  a  head 
did  not  kill,  and  the  heavens  flamed  before  the  nimble 
feet  of  a  boy. 

Had  he  been  drawn  into  a  witch's  cave?  What  had 
led  him  to  disclose  the  secret?  He  thought  of  Andre, 
and  when  he  was  led  into  the  guard-house  he  sat  down, 
wondered,  and  wept. 

But  he  hoped  Dennis,  his  captor,  had  a  human  heart. 
Was  he  a  second  Andre? 

Dennis  went  to  the  guard-house  the  next  day  to  visit 
a  new  prisoner.  The  suggestions  that  the  latter  made 
were  most  alarming. 

If  Benedict  Arnold  was  to  make  attack  along  the  coast 
his  object  was  to  divide  the  American  army,  which  was 


THE  BUGLES  BLOW  211 

now  moving  soutli  for  the  great  Virginia  campaign  against 
Cornwallis. 

"It  would  be  like  the  British  to  strike  us  now  upon 
the  coast,"  said  the  Governor,  "  but  he  would  be  more 
than  a  traitor  who  would  slaughter  his  own  kin  on  the 
soil  where  he  was  born  and  bred." 

The  man  gave  his  name  as  Ayre;  probably  from  the 
suggestion  of  the  name  of  the  British  colonel  who  was 
under  Arnold. 

He  was  despondent,  and  sat  in  the  guard-house  with 
drooping  head. 

"  Of  what  are  you  thinking?  "  asked  Dennis.  "  You 
may  give  me  your  thoughts  with  safety.  The  Governor 
is  the  soul  of  honor,  and  he  will  not  cause  me  to  violate 
the  spirit  of  my  promise  that  I  have  made." 

"  I  am  thinking  of  the  moment  when  the  captors  of 
Andre  said  to  him,  '  We  must  take  off  your  boots.'  " 

For  in  the  boots  of  the  unfortunate  officer  were  the 
despatches  from  Arnold  offering  to  treacherously  surren- 
der "West  Point. 

"  That  moment  must  have  stricken  terror  to  Andre's 
heart,"  said  the  man.  "  Then  it  was  that  he  saw  the  whole 
of  life.  Your  Governor  seems  to  be  a  very  kind-hearted 
man — the  people  love  him.  I  am  sorry  that  I  ever  had 
evil  thoughts  of  him.  But,  my  friend,  send  me  away;  for 
should  a  fleet  descend  upon  the  coast,  the  hatred  of  all 
these  people  will  fall  upon  me.  The  man  who  suggests 
an  evil  that  comes  is  held  in  detestation.  I  would  not  be 
safe  here." 

"  You  are  right,  and  you  shall  be  sent  to  Boston." 


212  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

It  was  in  tlie  air  tliat  the  Connecticut  coast  was  to 
be  attacked  again.  Connecticut  must  be  defended  by  her 
own  people,  should  it  come,  for  it  would  not  do  to  divide 
the  American  army  in  its  great  movement  to  crush  the 
main  army  of  the  British  of  the  south. 

"  I  will  send  you,  with  the  Governor's  approval,  to 
Fort  Trumbull,  at  New  London,  and  I  will  accompany 
you  there  myself,"  decided  Dennis. 

It  was  the  6th  of  November  when  the  two  set  out  on 
horseback  for  New  London  and  Groton — a  bright,  glim- 
mering day,  the  wayside  bordered  with  goldenrod.  The 
meadows  were  clouded  with  the  aftermath  and  webby 
wild  grasses,  and  seemed  to  sing  with  insects. 

Boom! 

What  was  that? 

Boom !    Boom ! 

"  There  is  a  cannonade  going  on  at  New  London," 
said  Dennis. 

They  hurried  on. 

The  air  thundered. 

"  It  is  Arnold !  "  said  the  prisoner. 

As  they  passed  down  their  way  amid  cidery  orchards, 
they  began  to  meet  people  flying  with  terror. 

"What  has  happened?"  asked  Dennis. 

"  Arnold !  "  was  the  answer  of  one.  "  He  is  burning 
everything — the  streets  that  he  trod  in  his  boyhood,  the 
very  houses  that  sheltered  him.  He  is  standing  on  the 
hill,  glass  in  hand,  gloating  in  the  power  to  kill  his  own 
neighbors'  sons.  Oh,  is  it  possible  that  one  should  come 
to  kill  his  own!  " 


THE  BUGLES  BLOW  213 

As  they  went  on,  the  cannonading  grew  louder  and 
the  roads  presented  a  scene  such  as  had  hardly  ever  been 
witnessed  in  America  before. 

The  people  were  flying  with  their  goods:  women  on 
beds  on  the  backs  of  horses;  old  women  driving  cows  be- 
fore them;  boys  with  sheep;  men  in  carts,  with  valuables; 
dogs  who  had  lost  their  masters. 

They  met  one  scene  that  was  indeed  pitiful.  It  was 
a  man  hurrying  with  the  coffin  of  a  child  on  his  back 
toward  the  burying-ground.  He  must  bury  the  little  one 
as  he  fled. 

The  farmhouses  were  full  of  people  with  white  faces, 
people  who  crowded  upon  each  other. 

It  was  a  terrible  story  that  they  had  to  tell.  Arnold 
had  surprised  New  London  by  the  sea,  and  had  burned 
down  every  house,  even  the  houses  that  sheltered  him 
in  his  boyhood. 

But  the  destruction  of  New  London  was  a  light 
event  compared  to  the  horrors  of  Groton,  across  the 
river. 

They  found  that  Colonel  Ayre  had  attacked  Fort  Gris- 
wold,  and  was  slaughtering  the  men  after  they  had  sur- 
rendered. Arnold  had  sent  a  messenger  to  arrest  this 
slaughter,  but  the  latter  had  arrived  too  late.  The  gar- 
rison had  refused  to  surrender.  When,  at  last,  they  were 
compelled  to  yield,  they  were  put  to  the  sword  without 
mercy,  and  the  wounded  were  killed,  and  even  the  dead 
were  maltreated.  The  men  under  Colonel  Ayre  had  be- 
come human  fiends.  They  had  gone  mad  with  the  passion 
for  killing. 


214  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

One  of  the  Britisli  officers  ran  from  place  to  place  to 
restrain  the  soldiers. 

"  Stop !  stop !  "  said  he.  "  In  the  name  of  heaven,  I 
say  stop — I  can  not  endure  it!  " 

But  the  work  of  killing  went  on,  and  of  killing  the 
wounded  and  stabbing  the  dead. 

Night  fell.  The  British  set  a  bomb  to  the  magazine 
and  passed  up  the  river,  expecting  to  see  a  terrible  ex- 
plosion that  would  fire  the  heavens.  But  the  explosion 
did  not  come.  A  brave  band  of  Americans  had  extin- 
guished the  fuse. 

"  There  is  no  Fort  Trumbull  to  which  I  can  take  you 
now,"  said  Dennis  to  his  prisoner.  "  You  may  go  to 
your  own." 

"  Then  I  will  return  with  you,  and  you  will  never 
find  a  heart  more  true  to  your  Governor  than  mine  will 
be.  Christ  forgave  Peter,  and  was  not  Peter  true  ?  Our 
truest  friends  are  those  whom  we  forgive.  To  know  all 
is  to  forgive  all.  I  know  your  Governor  now.  I  once 
hated  him ;  he  is  led  by  the  spirit  of  the  living  God,  and 
I  would  die  for  a  man  like  that.  It  is  better  to  change 
the  heart  of  an  enemy  than  to  kill  him.  Let  me  follow 
you  back,  and  the  people  will  receive  my  repentance  even 
at  this  awful  hour." 

Dennis,  through  fear  of  his  safety,  left  him  outside  of 
Lebanon  at  a  farmhouse,  but  when  he  had  told  his  tale 
to  the  people,  they  said: 

"  Bring  him  back ;  he  is  another  man  now." 


CHAPTEE   XIV 

A   DAUGHTEE   OF    THE    PILGEIMS 

It  was  past  midsuinmer — the  shadow  of  change  was 
in  the  year.  The  birds  were  gathering  in  flocks  in  the 
rowened  meadows,  and  the  woods  were  displaying  their 
purple  grapes  and  first  red  leaves, 

Rochambeau  had  been  receiving  the  hospitalities  of 
the  Governor,  and  had  also  received  lessons  in  the  new 
school  of  liberty  from  Faith  Robinson  Trumbull,  the  wife 
of  the  Governor.  The  hero  of  Minden  had  come  to  see 
this  grand  woman,  and  wished  to  make  her  a  present 
before  he  marched  on  to  join  the  army  of  Washington 
against  Clinton,  with  his  six  thousand  heroes. 

What  should  his  present  to  this  noble  woman  be  ? 

He  had  among  his  effects  a  scarlet  cloak.  It  was 
suitable  for  a  woman  or  for  a  man.  It  covered  the  whole 
form,  and  made  the  wearer  conspicuous,  for  it  was  made 
of  fine  fabric,  and  represented  the  habit  of  the  battle- 
field. 

He  took  the  cloak  out  of  his  treasures  one  evening 
and  came  down  into  the  public  room  of  the  forest  inn, 
where  some  of  the  French  oflBcers  of  the  regiment  of 
Auvergne  sans  tache  were  seated  in  a  merry  mood  before 
the  newly  kindled  fire. 

15  215 


216  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

He  held  up  the  scarlet  cloak.  "  Here,"  said  he,  "  is 
a  garment  to  be  worn  after  the  war  for  liberty  is  over. 
A  field-marshal  might  wear  it  after  the  day  of  victory. 
This  war  will  soon  end;  I  ara  going  to  present  this  cloak 
to  one  of  the  most  patriotic  souls  that  I  have  ever  met. 
Who  do  you  think  it  is  ? " 

"  The  Governor,"  said  an  officer,  a  colonel ;  "  Wash- 
ington's own  '  Brother  Jonathan.'  He  has  made  himself 
poor  by  the  war,  but  has  been  the  inspiration  of  every 
battle-field,  so  they  say.  Well,  you  do  well  to  honor  the 
rustic  Governor.  The  world  is  richer  for  him.  That  is 
a  good  thought,  General.  You  honor  the  soldiers  of 
Auvergne  sans  tache." 

The  General,  the  hero  of  Lafeldt,  held  up  the  cloak 
before  the  cooling  summer  fire.  A  soldier  turned  a  burn- 
ing stick  with  iron  tongs,  and  flames  with  sparks  like  a 
little  volcano  shot  up  and  threw  a  red  gleam  on  the  scarlet 
cloak  with  its  gold  thread. 

"  You  have  made  a  wrong  guess,  Colonel,"  said  Ro- 
chambeau.  "  This  cloak  is  for  Madam  Faith  Trumbull, 
who  has  the  blood  of  Robinson  of  Leyden  in  her  veins, 
and  who  is  the  very  spirit  of  liberty." 

Immediately  the  officers  leaped  to  their  feet. 

"  Cheers !  "  said  the  Colonel.  "  Cheers  for  Madam 
Faith — may  she  soon  wear  the  cloak — after  the  war !  " 

The  soldiers  of  Auvergne  sans  tache  were  chivalrous, 
and  they  swung  their  arms  in  wheel-like  circles  and  cheered 
for  the  wife  of  the  self -forgetful  Governor. 

In  the  midst  of  this  enthusiastic  outpouring  of  feeling 
the  Governor  himself  appeared  in  the  reception-room  of 


A  DAUGHTER  OP  THE  PILGRIMS  217 

the  forest  inn  with  madam,  smiling  and  stately,  on  his 
arm. 

"  You  came  at  a  happy  moment.  Governor,"  said  Ro- 
chambeau.     "  I  am  showing  my  men  this  scarlet  cloak." 

"  It  is  a  fine  garment,"  said  the  Governor.  "  It  were 
worthy  of  a  field-marshal  of  France." 

"  Would  it  be  worthy  of  the  wife  of  a  marshal  of  a 
regiment  of  Auvergne  sans  tache  ? "  asked  the  courtly 
Frenchman. 

"  It  would,"  said  the  Governor  in  a  New  England 
tone. 

"  Then  it  would  be  worthy  of  your  wife,  Gov- 
ernor." 

Rochambeau  approached  Madam  Faith.  "  Will  you 
allow  me,  madam,  to  honor  you,  if  it  be  an  honor,  with 
the  scarlet  cloak?  I  wish  you  to  wear  it  in  memory  of 
the  soldiers  of  Auvergne,  and  of  your  humble  servant, 
until  you  shall  find  some  one  who  is  more  worthy  of  it 
— and  I  do  not  believe,  madam,  if  you  will  allow  me  to 
say  it,  that  any  heart  truer  than  yours  to  the  principles 
of  liberty  and  to  all  mankind  beats  in  these  provinces." 

He  placed  the  scarlet  cloak  over  her  shoulders,  and 
the  officers  shouted  for  madam,  for  the  Governor,  for 
Rochambeau,  and  for  the  soldiers  of  the  banner  of  Au- 
vergne sans  tache. 

How  noble,  indeed.  Madam  Faith  looked  as  she  stood 
there  in  the  scarlet  cloak,  its  gold  threads  glimmering  in 
the  first  firelight  I 

Her  face  glowed.  She  tried  to  speak,  but  could  only 
say :  "  My  heart  is  full.  General.     But  any  soldier  who 


218  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

sleeps  to-night  on  the  battle-field  is  nobler  than  I — ^my 
heart  would  cover  him  with  this  cloak," 

The  officers  shouted  enthusiastically :  "  Auvergne !  " 

The  Governor  stood  off  from  his  wife  and  her  dazzling 
garment. 

"  You  do  look  real  pretty,  Faith — wear  it  in  memory 
of  the  French — ^wear  it  to  church — your  wearing  it  will 
honor  the  cause,  and  be  a  service  to  liberty.  I  wish  Wash- 
ington could  see  you  now." 

"  I  will  wear  it,"  said  Madam  Faith.  "  My  heart 
thanks  you !  "  she  said  to  Eochambeau.  She  began  to 
retreat  from  the  room,  her  face  almost  as  red  as  the 
cloak,  and  her  eyes  bright  with  tears.  "  I  thank  you  in 
the  name  of  Liberty !  "  She  moved  farther  away  and  out 
of  the  door. 

"  Going,  Faith  ?  "  asked  the  Governor. 

There  came  back  a  voice — "  God  bless  you !  " — the 
scarlet  cloak  had  gone.  She  thought  that  it  was  unworthy 
of  her  to  remain  where  she  would  secure  homage,  when 
the  Connecticut  soldiers  had  had  scarcely  clothes  to  wear 
in  their  march  against  Clinton  in  the  midst  of  the  poverty 
that  had  befallen  the  colonies  during  the  war. 

She  became  greatly  distressed.  In  her  enthusiasm  for 
the  French  deliverers  she  had  promised  to  wear  the  cloak 
until  some  one  more  worthy  of  it  could  be  found,  some 
one  who  needed  it  more. 

She  took  off  the  garment  in  her  own  room  and  sat 
down.  She  thought  of  the  past.  She  saw  in  her  vision 
her  godly  ancestor,  Robinson,  addressing  the  Pilgrim 
Fathers  for  the  last  time. 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  PILGRIMS  219 

"  Go  ye  into  the  wilderness,"  he  had  said,  "  and  new 
light  shall  break  out  from  the  word.    I  will  follow  you." 

She  saw  in  fancy  the  Mayflower  sail  away,  lifting 
new  horizons.  She  saw  the  many  Pilgrims'  graves  amid 
the  May  flowers  after  the  first  winter  at  Plymouth. 

She  rose  and  put  on  the  cloak  and  stood  before  the 
glass. 

"  I  can  not  wear  it,"  she  said.  "  I  must  wear  only 
the  clothes  made  with  my  own  hands,  in  times  like  these." 

She  looked  into  the  glass  again. 

"  But  my  promise  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I  must  keep  that 
— I  must  be  worthy  of  the  confidence  that  these  soldiers 
of  liberty  have  given  me.  I  must  honor  Rochambeau  and 
the  soldiers  of  the  land  of  Pascal.  How  shall  I  do  it? 
I  will  wear  it  once  and  then  seek  some  one  more  worthy 
to  wear  it;  he  will  not  be  hard  to  find." 

Governor  Trumbull  had  become  famous  for  his  Fast- 
Day  and  Thanksgiving  proclamations.  His  words  in  these 
documents  had  the  fire  of  an  ancient  prophet. 

This  year  his  proclamation  sang  and  rang.  He  called 
upon  the  people  to  assemble  in  their  meeting-house,  and 
to  bring  with  them  everything  that  they  could  spare  that 
could  be  made  useful  to  the  soldiers  on  the  battle-field  and 
be  laid  upon  the  altar  of  sacrifice. 

Madam  Faith  heard  his  message  as  the  pastor  read  it 
from  the  tall  pulpit  under  the  sounding-board. 

She  thought  of  the  scarlet  cloak.  She  must  wear  it  to 
the  church  on  that  great  day  to  honor  Rochambeau  and 
the  soldiers  of  Auvergne.  But  of  what  use  could  her 
garment  be  to  the  soldiers  in  the  stress  of  war? 


220  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

It  was  a  bright  mid-autumn  day.  The  people  were 
gathering  on  the  harvest-laden  plateau  on  Lebanon  Hill. 
The  church  on  the  high  green,  founded  some  eighty  years 
before,  opened  its  doors  to  the  sun.  The  yeomen  gath- 
ered on  its  steps  and  looked  down  on  the  orchards  and 
harvest  fields.  The  men  of  the  great  farms  assembled 
in  groups  about  the  inn  and  talked  of  the  fortunes  of  the 
war.  They  were  rugged  men  in  homespun  dress,  with 
the  purpose  of  the  time  in  their  faces.  The  women,  too, 
were  in  homespun. 

While  groups  of  people  were  gathering  here  and  there 
the  door  of  the  Governor's  plain  house  opened,  and  in 
it  appeared  Madam  Faith  in  her  scarlet  cloak.  All  eyes 
were  turned  upon  her.  She  stepped  out  on  to  the  green. 
She  did  not  look  like  the  true  daughter  of  the  Pilgrims 
that  she  was !  The  gay  and  glittering  garment  did  not 
become  the  serious  purpose  in  her  face. 

She  waited  outside  the  door,  and  was  soon  joined  by 
the  Governor.  The  two  approached  the  church  under  the 
gaze  of  many  eyes,  and  entered  the  building,  which  is 
to-day  in  appearance  much  as  it  was  then,  and  the  people 
followed  them.  The  chair  in  which  Governor  Trumbull 
sat  in  church  is  still  to  be  seen  in  the  old  Trumbull 
house.  A  colored  picture  of  the  church  as  it  then  ap- 
peared, with  its  high  pulpit,  sounding-board  and  galleries, 
may  be  seen  in  Stuart's  "  Life  of  Trumbull." 

A  silence  fell  upon  the  assembly.  The  people  felt 
that  the  crisis  of  the  war  had  passed  with  the  coming 
of  Rochambeau,  but  the  manner  of  the  issue  was  yet 
doubtful. 


A  DAUGHTER  OP  THE  PILGRIMS  221 

The  minister  arose — "  Be  still,  and  know  that  I  am 

the  Lord." 

"God  is  the  refuge  of  His  saints. 

Though  storms  of  sharp  distress  invade ; 
Before  they  utter  their  complaints 
Behold  Him  present  with  their  aid  1 " 

The  stanza,  or  a  like  one,  was  sung  in  a  firm  tone,  such 
as  only  times  like  these  could  inspire.  The  heroic  quality 
sank  into  tuneful  reverence  with  the  lines: 

"  There  is  a  stream  whose  gentle  flow 
Supplies  the  city  of  our  God," 

or  a  like  paraphrase.  A  long  prayer  followed;  the  hour- 
glass was  turned — silence  in  the  full  pews! 

The  sermon  followed  in  the  silence.  Then  the  minis- 
ter made  an  appeal  which  went  to  every  heart. 

"  The  nation  stands  waiting  the  Divine  will.  We  have 
given  to  the  cause  our  sons,  our  harvests,  the  increase  of 
our  flocks.  We  have  sent  of  our  substance,  our  best,  to 
every  northern  battle-field.  We  have  seen  our  men  go 
forth,  and  they  come  not  back.  We  have  seen  our  cattle 
driven  away,  and  our  cribs  and  cellars  left  empty;  we 
have  heard  our  Governor  called  a  '  brother '  by  the  noble 
Washington,  and  the  glorious  regiment  of  France's  honor 
has  sung  amid  these  cedars  the  songs  of  Auvergne. 

"  But  the  trumpets  of  the  northern  winds  are  sounding, 
and  our  army  faces  winter  again,  cloakless  and  some  of 
them  shoeless,  in  tatters.  We  are  making  new  garments 
for  the  soldiers,  but  we  have  no  red  stripes  to  put  upon 
them;  we  may  not  honor  the  noblest  soldier  in  the  world 
with  any  uniform,  or  insignia  of  his  calling.     He  goes 


222  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

forth  in  homespun,  and  in  homespun  he  faces  the  glitter- 
ing foe,  and  falls.  His  honor  is  in  himself,  and  not  in 
his  garments.  He  courageously  goes  down  to  the  chambers 
of  silence  without  stripe  or  star." 

At  the  words  red  stripes,  all  eyes,  as  by  one  impulse, 
turned  to  the  scarlet  cloak.  It  would  furnish  the  orna- 
ment of  dignity  and  honor  to  a  score  of  uniforms. 

"  Women  of  Lebanon,  you  have  with  willing  hands 
laid  much  on  the  altar  of  liberty.  Under  the  pulpit  stands 
a  rail  that  guards  holy  things.  I  appeal  to  you  once  more 
— I  hope  that  it  may  be  for  the  last  time — to  spare  all 
you  can  for  the  help  and  comfort  of  the  soldier.  Come 
up  to  the  altar  one  by  one  and  put  your  offerings  inside 
of  the  rail,  and  I  will  lift  my  hands  over  your  sacrifices 
in  prayer  and  benediction." 

Silence.  A  few  women  began  to  remove  the  rings 
from  their  fingers  and  ears.  One  woman  was  seen  to 
loosen  her  Rob  Roy  shawl.  Two  Indian  girls  removed 
strings  of  wampum  from  their  necks.  But  no  one  rose. 
All  seemed  waiting. 

The  Governor  sat  in  his  chair,  and  beside  him  his  good 
wife  in  the  red  Rochambeau  cloak.  They  were  in  the 
middle  aisle. 

Madam  Trumbull  was  thinking.  Could  she  offer  the 
scarlet  garment  to  the  cause  without  implying  a  want  of 
gratitude  toward  the  noble  Rochambeau? 

Would  she  not  honor  Rochambeau  by  offering  the  gift 
to  the  camp  and  battle-field  ? 

"  Stripes  on  the  soldiers'  garments  are  inspirations," 
she  may  have  whispered  to  her  husband.     "  I  am  going 


Madam  Faith  Trumbull  contributing  her  scarlet  cloak  to  the 
soldiers  of  the  Revolution. 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  PILGRIMS  223 

to  give  my  cloak — it  shall  follow  Rochambeau — I  am  going 
to  make  it  live  and  march — he  shall  see  it  again  in  the 
lines  that  dare  death.     Shall  I  go  to  the  altar  ?  " 

"  Yes,  go.  Send  your  cloak  to  Rochambeau  again.  Let 
it  move  on  the  march.  You  will  honor  the  regiment  of 
Auvergne — Auvergne  sans  tache." 

She  rose,  almost  trembling.  Every  eye  was  fixed  upon 
her.  Madam  Faith  was  held  in  more  than  common  esteem, 
not  only  because  she  was  the  wife  of  the  Governor,  but 
also  because  she  was  a  descendant  of  the  Prophet  of  the 
Pilgrims  of  Leyden  and  Plymouth. 

She  stood  by  the  Governor's  chair,  unfastening  the 
red  garment.  The  people  saw  what  she  was  about  to  do. 
Some  of  them  bowed  their  heads;  some  wept. 

The  pastor  spoke :  "  I  would  that  the  Pilgrim,  John 
Robinson,  were  here  to-day !  " 

Madam  Faith  removed  the  cloak  and  laid  it  over  her 
arm.  She  bent  her  face  on  the  floor,  and  slowly  walked 
toward  the  rail  that  guarded  the  sacred  things  of  the  sim- 
ple altar. 

The  pastor  lifted  his  hands. 

"  Pray  ye  all  for  the  principle  of  the  right,  for  the 
cause  of  the  soldier  of  liberty." 

She  laid  the  scarlet  cloak  on  the  altar,  and  turned  to 
the  people  and  lifted  her  eyes  to  God. 

She  looked  like  a  divinity  as  she  stood  forth  there 
that  day,  like  a  spirit  that  had  come  forth  from  the 
Mayflower. 

That  Thanksgiving  was  long  remembered  in  Lebanon. 
That  cloak  was  turned  into  stripes  on  soldiers'  uniforms 


224  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

and  made  history,  and  some  of  the  uniforms  bearing  them 
are  yet  to  be  seen. 

To  Dennis  and  Peter  was  entrusted  the  sending  of  the 
new  uniforms  with  the  red  stripes  to  the  army  gathering 
around  Yorktown.  The  faithful  Irishman  and  the  lad 
rode  away  from  the  alarm-post  in  the  cedars  amid  the 
cheers  of  the  people.  What  news  would  they  bring  back 
when  they  should  return  ? 

It  was  an  anxious  time  in  the  cedars.  In  the  even- 
ings the  people  gathered  about  the  war  office  and  at  the 
Alden  Inn.  A  stage-driver,  who  was  a  natural  story- 
teller, used  to  relate  curious  stories  at  the  latter  place,  on 
the  red  settle  there,  and  in  these  silent  days  of  moment 
the  people  hugged  the  fire  to  hear  him:  it  was  their  only 
amusement. 

One  evening  a  country  elder,  who  had  done  a  noble 
work  in  his  day,  stopped  at  the  tavern.  This  event  brought 
the  Governor  over  to  the  place,  and  the  elder  was  asked 
to  relate  a  story  of  his  parish  on  the  red  settle.  He  had 
a  sense  of  humor  as  keen  as  Peters,  who  was  still  telling 
strange  tales  in  England  of  the  people  that  he  had  found 
in  the  "  new  parts." 

Let  us  give  you  one  of  the  parson's  queer  stories:  it 
pictures  the  times. 

THE  COURTING  STICK 

Asenath  Short — I  seem  to  see  her  now  (said  the 
elder).     One  day  she  said  to  her  husband: 

"  Kalub,  now  look  here ;  we've  got  near  upon  every- 
thing so  far  as  this  world's  goods  go — spinnin'  wheels  and 


A  DAUGHTER  OP  THE  PILGRIMS  225 

hatchels,  and  looms  and  a  mahogany  table,  and  even  a 
board  to  be  used  to  lay  us  out  on  when  the  final  time  shall 
come.  The  last  thing  that  you  bought  was  a  dinner-horn, 
and  then  I  put  away  the  conch  shell  from  the  Indies  along 
with  the  cradle  and  the  baby  chair.  But,  Kalub,  there's 
one  thing  more  that  we  will  have  to  have.  The  families 
down  at  Longmeadow  have  all  got  them;  they  save  fire 
and  fuel,  and  they  enable  the  young  folks  and  their  elders 
all  to  talk  together  at  the  same  time,  respectfully  in  the 
same  room,  and  when  the  young  folks  have  a  word  to  say 
to  each  other  in  private  it  encourages  them.  Xow  I'm 
kind  o'  sociable-like  myself,  and  I  like  to  encourage  young 
people ;  that's  why  I  wanted  you  to  buy  a  spinet  for  Man- 
dy.  I  don't  like  to  see  young  folks  go  apart  by  themselves, 
especially  in  winter;  there  is  no  need  of  extra  lights  or 
fires,  if  one  only  has  one  of  them  things." 

"  One  of  them  things  ?  Massy  sakes  alive,  what  is  it, 
Asenath  ?  " 

"  Why,  haven't  you  never  seen  one,  Kalub  ?  It  is  a 
courtin'  stick.  They  didn't  used  to  have  such  things  when 
we  were  young.  A  courtin'  stick  is  like  Aaron's  rod  that 
budded." 

"  A  courtin'  stick !  Conquiddles !  Do  I  hear  my  ears  ? 
There  don't  need  to  be  any  machinery  for  courtin'  in 
this  world  no  more  than  there  does  to  make  the  avens 
bloom,  or  the  corn  cockles  to  come  up  in  the  corn.  What 
is  a  courtin'  stick,  Asenath  ? " 

"  Well,  Kalub,  a  courtin'  stick  is  a  long,  hollow  wooden 
tube,  with  a  funnel  at  each  end — one  funnel  to  cover  the 
mouth  of  the  one  that  speaks,  and  one  to  cover  the  ear 


226  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

of  the  one  that  listens.  By  that  stick — it  is  all  so  proper 
and  handy  when  it  works  well  and  steady — young  people 
can  talk  in  the  same  room,  and  not  disturb  the  old  people 
or  set  the  work  folks  and  the  boys  to  titterin'  as  they  used 
to  do  when  we  were  young.  It  was  discovered  here  in 
the  Connecticut  Valley,  which  has  always  been  a  place  of 
providences.  Just  as  I  said,  it  is  a  savin'  of  fire  and 
lights  in  the  winter-time,  and  it  suggests  the  right  rela- 
tions among  families  of  property.  It  is  a  sort  of  guide- 
post  to  life. 

"  Kalub,  don't  you  want  that  I  should  show  you  one  ?  " 

"  Where  did  you  get  it,  Asenath  ?  " 

"  Asahel  made  it  for  me.  I  told  him  how  to  make  it, 
but  when  I  came  to  explain  to  him  what  it  was  for  his 
face  fell,  and  he  turned  red  and  he  said,  ^  Hyppogriffo ! ' 
I  wonder  where  he  got  that  word — '  hyppogriffo ! '  It  has 
a  pagan  sound ;  Asahel,  he  mistrusted." 

"  Mistrusted  what,  Asenath  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  haven't  told  you  quite  all.  When  the  head 
of  a  family  knows  that  a  certain  young  man  is  comin' 
to  visit  him  at  a  certain  time  and  hangs  up  a  courtin'  stick 
over  the  mantel-tree  shelf,  or  the  dresser,  it  is  a  sign  to 
the  visitor  he  is  welcome." 

"  But  there  is  no  need  of  a  sign  like  that,  Asenath." 

Asenath  rose,  went  into  the  spare  bed-room,  a  place 
of  the  mahogany  bureau,  the  mourning  piece,  valences  and 
esconces,  and  brought  out  a  remarkable  looking  tube,  which 
seemed  to  have  leather  ears  at  each  end,  and  which  was 
some  dozen  feet  long. 

"  Moses !  "  said  Caleb,  "  and  all  the  patriarchs !  "  he 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  PILGRIMS  227 

added.  "  Let's  you  and  me  try  it.  There,  you  put  it 
up  to  your  ear  and  let  me  speak.  Is  the  result  satis- 
fyin'?" 

Asenath  assured  him  that  the  experiment  was  quite 
satisfactory. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Caleb.  "  Now  I  will  go  on  shellin' 
corn  and  think  matters  over;  it  may  be  all  right  if  the 
elder  says  it  is." 

For  a  few  minutes  there  was  a  rain  of  corn  into  the 
basket,  when  Caleb  started  up  and  said,  "  Cracky !  "  He 
put  his  hand  into  one  pocket  after  another,  then  went  up 
to  the  peg  board  and  took  down  his  fur  overcoat  and  felt 
of  the  pockets  in  it.  He  came  back  to  the  place  of  the 
corn-shelling  doubtfully,  and  began  to  trot,  as  it  were, 
around  the  basket,  still  putting  his  hand  into  one  pocket 
after  another. 

"  Lost  anything,  Kalub  ?  "  asked  Asenath. 

"  Yes,  the  stage-driver  gave  me  a  parcel  directed  to 
Asahel,  in  the  care  of  Amanda,  and  I  don't  know  what  I 
did  with  it.  I  meant  to  have  told  you  about  it,  but  you 
set  me  all  into  confusion  over  that  there  courtin'  stick." 

We  know  not  how  many  old  New  England  homesteads 
may  have  a  courting  stick  among  their  heirlooms,  but  im- 
agine that  they  are  few.  Such  a  stick  used  to  be  shown 
to  the  curious  in  the  Longmeadow  neighborhood  of  Spring- 
field, Mass.,  and  we  think  it  may  be  seen  there  still.  It 
was  especially  associated  with  the  manners  and  customs  of 
the  Connecticut  Valley  towns,  and  it  left  behind  it  some 
pleasing  legends  in  such  pastoral  villages  as  Northampton, 
Hadley,  and  Hatfield.     It  was  a  promising  object-lesson 


228  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

in  the  domestic  life  of  the  worldly  wise,  and  could  have 
been  hardly  unwelcome  to  marmlet  maidens  and  rustic 
beaux. 

Caleb  Short  continued  his  shelling  corn  for  a  time,  but 
he  worked  slowly.  He  at  last  turned  around  and  looked 
at  his  wife,  who  was  sewing  rags  for  a  to-be-braided  mat. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  now,  Kalub  ?  "  asked  the  latter. 

"  Asahel." 

"  Yes — I  know — I've  been  thinkin'  much  about  him  of 
late.  He  came  to  us  as  a  bound  boy  after  his  folks  were 
dead,  and  we've  done  well  by  him,  now  haven't  we,  Kalub  ? 
I've  set  store  by  him,  but — I  might  as  well  speak  it  out, 
he's  too  sociable  with  our  Mandy  now  that  they  have 
grown  up.  It  stands  to  reason  that  he  can  never  marry 
Mandy." 

"  Why  not,  Asenath  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  How  would  you  like  to  have  people  say 
that  our  Amanda  had  married  her  father's  hired  man  ? 
How  would  it  look  on  our  family  tree  ?  "  Asenath  glanced 
up  to  a  fruitful  picture  on  the  wall. 

"  Asahel  is  a  true-hearted  boy,"  said  Caleb.  "  Since 
our  own  son  has  taken  to  evil  ways,  who  will  we  have  to 
depend  upon  in  our  old  age  but  Asahel,  unless  Mandy 
should  marry  ? " 

"  O  Kalub,  think  what  a  wife  I've  been  to  you  and 
listen  to  me.  Mandy  is  going  to  marry.  I  am  going  to 
invite  Myron  Smith  here  on  Thanksgiving,  and  to  hang 
up  the  courtin'  stick  over  the  dresser,  so  that  he  will  see 
it  plain.  That  stick  is  goin'  to  jine  the  two  farms.  It  is 
a  yard-stick — there,  now,  there !     I  always  was  great  on 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  PILGRIMS  229 

calculation;  Abraham  was,  and  so  was  Jacob;  it's  scrip- 
tural. You  would  have  never  proposed  to  me  if  I  hadn't 
encouraged  you,  and  only  think  what  a  wife  I've  been  to 
you !    Just  like  two  wives." 

"  But  Asahel  Bow  is  a  thrifty  boy.  He  is  sensible  and 
savin',  and  he  is  feelin'." 

"  Kalub,  Kalub  Short,  now  that  will  do.  Who  was 
his  father  ?  Who  but  old  Seth  Bow  ?  Everybody  knows 
what  he  was,  and  blood  will  tell.  Just  think  of  what  that 
man  did !  " 

"  What,  Asenath  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  know  that  he  undertook  to  preach,  and  he 
thought  that  if  he  opened  his  mouth  the  Lord  would  fill  it. 
And  he  opened  his  mouth,  and  stood  with  it  open  for 
nearly  ten  minutes,  and  he  couldn't  speak  a  word.  He 
was  a  laughing-stock,  and  he  never  went  to  meetin'  much 
after  that,  only  to  evenin'  meetin's  in  the  schoolhouse — 
candle-light  meetin's." 

"  Yes,  Asenath,  that  is  all  true.  But  Seth  Bow  was  an 
honest  man.  Just  hear  how  he  used  to  talk  to  me.  He 
used  to  say  to  me — I  often  think  of  it — he  used  to  say: 
'  Caleb  Short,  I've  lost  my  standin'  among  the  people,  but 
I  haven't  lost  my  faith  in  God,  and  there  is  a  law  that 
makes  up  for  things.  I  couldn't  preach,  but  Asahel  is 
goin'  to  preach.  He's  inherited  the  germ  of  intention  from 
me,  and  one  day  that  will  be  something  to  be  thankful  for, 
come  Thanksgiving  days.  I  will  preach  through  Asahel 
yet.  I  tell  you,  Caleb,  there  is  a  law  that  makes  up  for 
things.  1^0  good  intention  was  ever  lost.  One  must  do 
right,  and  then  believe  that  all  that  happens  to  him  is 


230  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

for  his  good.  That  is  the  way  the  Book  of  Job  reads,  and 
I  have  faith,  faith,  faith !  You  may  all  laugh  at  me,  but 
Asahel  will  one  day  be  glad  that  his  old  father  wanted 
to  preach,  and  tried,  even  if  he  did  fail.  The  right  in- 
tention of  the  father  is  fulfilled  in  the  son,  and  I  tell  you 
there's  a  law  that  makes  up  for  things,  and  so  I  can  sing 
Thanksgiving  Psalms  with  the  rest  of  um,  if  I  don't  dare 
to  open  my  mouth  in  doin'  it.'  Asenath,  I  look  upon 
Asahel  as  a  boy  that  is  blessed  in  the  intention  of  his 
father.  The  right  intentions  of  a  boy  live  in  the  man, 
and  the  gov'nin'  purpose  of  the  man  lives  in  his  boys  or 
those  whom  he  influences,  and  I  tell  you,  Asenath,  there's 
nothing  better  to  be  considered  on  Thanksgiving  days  than 
the  good  intentions  of  the  folks  of  the  past  that  live  in 
us.  There  are  no  harvests  in  the  world  ekul  to  those. 
You  wait  and  see." 

At  this  point  of  the  story,  the  clergyman  said : 

"  That  is  good  old  Connecticut  doctrine.  Brother  Jona- 
than." 

The  story-teller  continued: 

The  weather-door  slowly  opened,  and  the  tall  form  of 
a  young  man  appeared. 

"  Asahel,"  said  Asenath,  "  we  were  just  speakin'  of 
you  and  your  folks,  and  now  I  want  to  have  a  talk  with 
you.  Take  off  your  frock,  and  don't  be  standing  there 
like  a  swamp  crane,  but  sit  down  on  the  uniped  here  close 
by  me,  as  you  used  to  do  when  you  was  a  small  boy.  I 
set  store  by  you,  and  you  just  think  what  a  mother  I've 
been  to  you  since  your  own  mother  was  laid  away  in  the 
juniper  lot !     But  I  am  a  proper  plain-speakin'  woman. 


A  DAUGHTER  OP  THE  PILGRIMS  231 

as  your  own  mother  was — she  that  answered  the  minister 
back  in  meetin*  time  when  the  good  old  elder  said  that 
your  father  was  a  hypocrit." 

Presently  the  weather-door  opened,  and  Amanda  ap- 
peared and  sat  down  on  the  same  uniped  with  Asahel. 

The  good  woman  continued : 

"  You  two  have  been  cowslippin'  together,  and  sassa- 
frassin'  together,  and  a-huntin'  turkeys'  nests  and  wild 
honey,  and  pickin'  Indian  pipe  and  all.  Now,  that  was 
all  right  when  you  were  children.  But,  Asahel,  you  and 
Amanda  have  come  to  the  pastur'  bars  of  life,  and  you 
must  part,  and  you,  Asahel,  must  be  content  to  become 
just  one  of  our  hired  men  and  sit  at  the  table  with  the 
other  hired  men,  on  Thanksgivin'  days  the  same  as  on  all 
other  days,  and  not  stand  in  the  way  of  any  one.  And, 
Amandy  Short,  do  you  see  that  ? " 

Asenath  held  up  the  courting  stick. 

"  Do  you  know  what  that  is  ?  " 

"  It  is  just  a  hollow  stick.  I've  seen  sticks  before. 
What  does  all  this  mean  ?  " 

"  You've  seen  sticks  before,  have  you,  Amanda  ?  And 
you  have  experienced  'em,  too,  for  I  have  been  a  faithful 
mother  to  you — as  good  as  two.  But  this  is  the  stick 
that  must  unite  some  farm  to  ours,  and  I  am  goin'  to 
hang  it  up  over  the  dresser,  and  when  the  right  young 
man  comes,  Amanda,  I  want  you  to  take  it  down  and 
put  it  up  to  your  ear,  so,  and  it  may  be  that  you  will 
hear  somethin'  useful,  somethin'  to  your  advantage  and 
ourn.    I  hope  that  I  made  myself  clearly  understood." 

She  did.  The  two  young  people  had  not  been  left  in 
16 


232  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

any  darkness  at  all  in  regard  to  her  solution  of  their  social 
equation.  Asahel  stepped  into  the  middle  of  the  great 
kitchen  floor.  His  face  was  as  fixed  as  an  image,  and  the 
veins  were  mapped  on  his  forehead. 

He  bent  his  eyes  on  Asenath  for  a  moment  and  then 
his  soul  flowed  out  to  the  tone  of  the  accompaniment  of 
honor. 

"  Mrs.  Short,  you  were  good  to  me  as  a  boy,  and  I  will 
never  do  a  thing  against  your  will  in  your  family  affairs. 
My  father  prayed  that  I  might  have  the  ability  to  fulfil 
what  he  was  unable  to  do  in  life.  To  inherit  such  a 
purpose  from  such  a  father  is  something  to  be  grateful 
for,  and  now  that  I  am  disappointed  in  my  expectation 
of  Amanda  I  shall  devote  all  that  I  am  to  my  father's 
purpose  in  me.     I  am  going  to  be  a  minister." 

"  You  be,  hey  ?  But  where  is  the  money  comin' 
from?" 

"  Mrs.  Short,  it  is  to  come  out  of  these  two  fists." 

Poor  tender-hearted  Caleb,  he  shelled  corn  as  never 
before  during  this  painful  scene.  Suddenly  he  looked  up 
and  about  for  relief.  His  eye  fell  upon  the  courting 
stick. 

"  Here,"  said  he  to  Amanda,  who  was  crying,  "  just 
let  us  try  this  new  comical  machine,  and  see  how  it 
works.  Mandy,  let's  you  and  I  have  a  little  talk  together. 
I'll  put  the  thing  up  to  my  mouth,  so,  and  you  just  listen 
at  the  other  end  of  it.  There — I'm  going  to  say  some- 
thing.    Ready  now,  Mandy  ?    Did  you  hear  that  ?  " 

"  Yes,  father,  I  heard  it  just  as  plain  as  though  you 
spoke  it  into  my  ear." 


A  DAUGHTER  OP  THE  PILGRIMS  233 

"  Tou  didn't  hear  anything  in  particular,  did  you, 
Asenath?" 

"  No,  only  a  sound  far  away  and  mysterious  like." 

"  Curis,  ain't  it,  how  that  thing  will  convey  sound  in 
that  way  ?  I  should  think  that  some  invention  might  come 
out  of  it  some  day.  Now,  Amanda,  you  just  put  your 
ear  up  to  the  funnel  and  listen  again.  "  Mandy,"  he 
continued  through  the  tube,  "  if  your  heart  is  sot  on  Asa- 
hel,  do  you  stand  by  him,  and  wait;  time  makes  changes 
pleasantly."  He  put  aside  the  tube.  "  There,  now,  do 
you  hear  ? " 

"  You  didn't  hear,  mother,  did  you  ? "  said  Caleb  to 
Asenath,  glancing  aside. 

«  No,  Kalub." 

"  This  is  a  great  invention.  It  works  well.  Now 
let  me  just  have  a  word  with  Asahel." 

Amanda  conveyed  one  end  of  the  tube  to  Asahel's 
ear. 

"  Asahel."  He  took  his  mouth  from  the  tube.  "  Did 
you  hear  ?  " 

"  You  didn't  hear  anything,  did  you  ? "  he  said,  look- 
ing toward  Asenath. 

"No,  Kalub." 

"  Now,  Asahel,  you  listen  again,"  said  Caleb,  putting 
his  mouth  to  the  tube.  "If  your  heart  is  sot  on  Mandy, 
you  just  hang  on,  and  wait.  Time  will  be  a  friend  to 
you,  and  I  will.     There,  now,  did  you  hear,  Asahel  ? " 

"  You  didn't  hear  anything,  did  you  ? "  asked  Caleb 
of  Asenath  again  with  a  shake. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Asenath,  "  it  seems  to  me  as 


234:  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

though  the  hands  are  the  hands  of  Esau,  but  that  the  voice 
is  the  voice  of  Jacob." 

"  Show !  Well,  now,  Amanda,  you  and  Asahel  talk 
now  with  each  other.    Here's  the  tube." 

"  Asahel  Bow,"  said  Amanda,  through  the  tube,  "  I 
believe  in  you  through  and  through." 

"  Amen !  "  said  Asahel,  speaking  outside  of  the  tube. 
"  Amen  whenever  your  mother  shall  say  Amen,  and  never 
until  then.  There  is  no  need  of  any  courting  stick  for 
me." 

At  this  point  of  family  history  Caleb  leaped  around. 

"  I  know  what  I  did  with  it — I  do  now !  " 

"  Did  with  what,  Kalub  ?  "  asked  Asenath. 

"  That  letter  for  Asahel — it  is  right  under  my  ban- 
danna in  my  hat !  " 

Caleb  went  to  his  hat  and  handed  the  lost  letter  to 
Asahel. 

The  latter  looked  at  it  and  said,  "  England !  "  He 
read  it  with  staring  eyes  and  whitening  face,  and  handed 
it  to  Mrs.  Short,  who  elevated  her  spectacles  again. 

"  That  old  case  in  chancery  is  decided,"  said  he,  "  and 
I  am  to  get  my  father's  share  of  the  confiscated  property. 
I  may  have  yet  to  wait  for  it,  though.  My  great-grand- 
father was  Bow  of  Bow.  He  was  accused  of  resisting  the 
Act  of  Uniformity,  and  his  property  was  withheld." 

Asenath  lifted  her  brows. 

"  Bow  of  Bow,"  she  repeated.  "  He  was  a  brave  man, 
I  suppose.  Eesisted  the  Act  of  Uniformity  ?  How  much 
did  he  leave  ?  " 

"  An  estate  estimated  at  £20,000." 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  PILGRIMS  235 

"  Heavens  be  praised  !  "  said  the  suddenly  impressible 
Asenath.  She  added :  "  I  always  knew  that  you  had  good 
blood  in  you,  and  was  an  honest  man,  Asahel,  just  like 
your  father;  nobody  could  ever  turn  him  from  the  right, 
no  more  than  you  could  the  side  of  a  house;  no  Act  of 
Uniformity  could  ever  shape  the  course  of  old  Seth  Bow. 
And  you  are  a  capable  man,  Asahel;  your  poor  father 
had  limitations  and  circumstances  to  contend  with,  but 
you  are  capable  of  doing  all  that  he  meant  to  do.  I  always 
did  think  a  deal  of  your  father,  and  I  think  considerable 
of  your  grandfather  now.  I  always  was  just  like  a  mother 
to  you,  now  wasn't  I,  Asahel,  good  as  two  or  more  ordi- 
nary stepmothers  and  the  like  ? 

"  *  Bow  of  Bow,'  '  Bow  of  Bow,'  "  continued  Asenath. 
"  Well,  I  have  prayed  that  Amanda  might  marry  well, 
and  your  part  of  £20,000  would  be  just  about  twenty 
times  the  value  of  the  Smith  farm,  as  I  see  it.  That  farm 
isn't  anything  but  a  bush  pastur',  anyhow. 

"  '  Bow  of  Bow,'  what  a  sort  of  grand  sound  that  has! 
'  Bow  of  Bow.'  I  once  had  an  uncle  that  was  a  stevedore, 
an  English  stevedore,  or  a  cavalier,  or  something  of  the 
kind,  but  he  didn't  leave  any  estate  like  Bow  of  Bow.  I 
think  he  uniformed  in  the  time  of  the  Uniformity. 

"  Asahel,  you  just  put  that  there  courtin'  stick  up  to 
your  ear  once  more  and  let  me  say  a  word,  now  that  I 
have  new  light  and  understand  things  better." 

Asahel  obeyed.  There  came  a  response  that  could  be 
heard  outside  of  the  hollow  tube :  "  Amen !  "  A  murmur- 
ous sound  followed  which  was  understood  only  by  Asahel. 
"  You  will  overlook  my  imperfections  now,  won't  you, 


236  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

Asahel  ?  Pride  is  a  deceitful  thing,  and  it  got  the  better 
of  me.  I  only  meant  well  for  Amandy,  same  as  you  do. 
I'm  sorry  for  what  I  said,  Asahel.  Marry  Mandy,  and 
I'll  be  a  mother  to  you  as  I  always  have  been.  As  good 
as  two  common  mothers,  or  more,  same  as  I  have  always 
been  to  Kalub." 

"  And  I  am  Asahel.  Have  my  father's  intentions 
been  fulfilled  in  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  elder,"  said  the  Governor.  "  They  have !  " 
shouted  all.  "  That  is  a  tale  that  makes  me  pray  to  be- 
come all  I  can,"  said  a  taverner  from  Boston. 

"  The  purpose  of  life  is  growth,"  said  the  Governor. 
"  Growth  is  revelation.  Grow,  grow,  and  past  intentions 
will  be  fulfilled  in  you." 

He  crossed  Lebanon  green  in  the  moonlight. 

Lebanon,  the  place  that  had  been  filled  with  life,  with 
hasty  orders  to  couriers,  as  "  Fly!  "  "  Haste!  "  was  silent 
now.    What  would  be  the  next  news  to  come  by  the  green  ? 


CHAPTER   XV 

"  COENWALLIS    IS    TAKEN  !  " 

These  were  thrilling  days.  The  American  armies 
were  marching  south,  and  with  them  were  advancing  the 
bugles  of  Auvergne. 

Simple  incidents,  as  well  as  incidents  tragic  and  dra- 
matic, picture  times  and  periods,  and  we  relate  some  of  the 
family  stories  of  General  Knox  of  the  artillery,  who  had 
collected  powder  and  directed,  often  with  his  own  hands, 
the  siege-guns  of  the  great  events  of  the  war. 

When  the  French  officers  arrived  in  Philadelphia  after 
their  journey  from  Lebanon,  they  were  entertained  at  a 
banquet  by  Chevalier  de  Luzerne,  the  ambassador  from 
the  French  court.  Philadelphia  was  the  seat  of  the  Amer- 
ican Government  then. 

The  banquet  was  a  splendid  one  for  those  times,  and 
it  had  a  lively  spirit.  The  American  guests  must  have 
been  filled  with  expectation. 

For  the  plan  to  shut  up  Lord  Cornwallis  at  York- 
town  was  full  of  promise,  and  the  military  enterprises 
to  effect  this  were  proceeding  well.  The  lord  himself  was 
dissatisfied  with  the  plans  he  was  compelled  to  pursue, 
and  any  fortress  is  weak  in  which  the  heart  of  the  com- 
mander is  not  strong  in  the  faith  of  success. 

237 


238  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

In  the  midst  of  the  banquet,  there  was  a  summons 
for  silence.     The  Chevalier  arose,  his  face  beaming. 

He  looked  into  the  eager  faces  and  said: 

"  My  friends,  I  have  good  news  for  you  all. 

"  Thirty-three  ships  of  the  line,  commanded  by  Mon- 
sieur de  Compte  de  Grasse,  have  arrived  in  the  Chesa- 
peake Bay." 

A  thrill  ran  through  the  assembly.  The  atmosphere 
became  electric,  and  amid  the  ardor  of  glowing  expecta- 
tion the  Chevalier  added: 

"  And  the  ships  have  landed  three  thousand  men,  and 
the  men  have  opened  communication  with  Lafayette." 

The  guests  leaped  to  their  feet. 

"  Cornwallis  is  surrounded  and  doomed !  "  said  they. 

They  grasped  each  other's  hands,  and  added: 

"  This  is  the  end !  " 

The  army,  now  confident  of  victory,  marched  toward 
Yorktown,  under  the  command  of  Washington. 

The  inhabitants  along  the  way  hailed  it  as  it  passed — 
women,  children.  There  were  cheers  from  the  doorsteps, 
fences,  and  fields,  from  white  and  black,  the  farmer  and 
laborer.  The  towns  uttered  one  shout,  and  blazed  by 
night.  The  land  knew  no  common  night,  every  one  was 
so  filled  and  thrilled  with  joy.    All  flags  were  in  air. 

The  morning  of  liberty  was  dawning,  the  sun  was 
coming,  the  people  knew  it  by  the  advance  rays.  The 
invader  must  soon  depart. 

"  Cornwallis  is  doomed ! "  was  the  salutation  from 
place  to  place,  from  house  to  house. 

General  Washington,  with  Knox  and  members  of  his 


"CORNWALLIS  IS  TAKEN!"  239 

staff,  stopped  one  morning  at  a  Pennsylvania  farmhouse 
for  breakfast. 

The  meal  was  provided.  The  oflBcers  partook  of  it, 
and  ordered  their  horses,  and  were  waiting  for  them  when 
the  people  of  the  place  came  into  the  house  to  pay  their 
respects  to  Washington.  He  stood  in  the  simple  room,  tall 
and  commanding,  with  the  stately  Knox  beside  him. 

"  Make  way,"  said  the  people,  "  make  way  for  age !  " 

An  old  man  appeared,  the  patriarch  of  the  place.  He 
entered  the  house  without  speaking  a  word.  He  looked 
into  the  face  of  Washington  and  stood  silent.  There  had 
come  to  him  the  moment  that  he  had  hoped  to  see;  the 
desire  and  probably  prayers  of  fading  years  had  been 
answered.     The  room  became  still. 

The  old  man  did  not  ask  an  introduction  to  the  great 
commander.  He  lifted  his  face  upward  and  raised  his 
hands.  Then  he  spoke,  not  to  Washington  and  his  gener- 
als, but  to  God : 

"  Lord,  now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace, 
for  mine  eyes  have  seen  thy  salvation." 

The  generals  rode  on  toward  Virginia,  cheered  by  the 
spirit  of  prophecy  in  the  patriarch's  prayer. 

It  was  a  little  episode,  but  the  soul  of  destiny  was 
in  it. 

October,  with  its  refreshing  shade  of  coolness,  its 
harvest-fields  and  amber  airs,  was  now  at  hand.  Corn- 
wallis  was  surrounded  at  Yorktown.  He  had  warned  Sir 
Henry  Clinton,  his  superior,  that  this  might  be  his  fate. 
He  is  lost  who  has  lost  his  faith,  and  begins  to  make 
the  provision  to  say,  "  I  told  you  so  I " 


24:0  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

Knox  with  his  siege-guns,  twenty-three  in  number,  was 
preparing  for  the  final  tempest  of  the  war. 

And  against  Yorktown  were  marching  the  heroes  of 
the  old  liberty  banners  of  Auvergne  sans  tache. 

In  the  early  autumn  of  1781  the  field  of  war  had 
become  the  scene  of  a  thrilling  drama  in  the  British  camp. 
Lord  Cornwallis  had  taken  his  army  into  Yorktown,  and 
under  the  protection  of  the  British  fleet  on  the  York  River 
had  fortified  his  position  by  semicircular  fortifications 
which  extended  from  river  to  river. 

He  must  have  felt  his  position  impregnable  at  first, 
with  the  advantage  which  the  fleet  would  bring  to  him 
in  the  wide  river,  until  there  came  news  to  him  that 
unsettled  his  faith  in  his  position.  But  he  soon  began 
to  lose  confidence.     He  seemed  to  foreshadow  his  doom. 

Yorktown  was  situated  on  a  projecting  bank  of  the 
York  River.  The  river  was  a  mile  wide,  and  deep.  Lord 
Cornwallis  expected  to  have  the  place  fortified  by  middle 
fall,  and  that  Sir  Henry  Clinton  would  join  him  there. 

"  I  have  no  enemy  now  to  contend  against  but  Lafay- 
ette," he  thought  until  the  coming  of  the  French  fleet 
was  announced  to  him. 

Washington  determined  to  cut  off  Lord  Cornwallis 
from  any  retreat  from  Yorktown  by  land  or  by  sea.  His 
plan  was  to  pen  up  the  British  commander  on  the  penin- 
sula, and  there  to  end  the  war.  He  largely  entrusted  the 
siege  by  land  to  young  Lafayette.  He  probably  felt  a 
pride  in  giving  the  young  general  the  opportunity  to  end 
the  war.  He  liked  to  honor  one  who  had  so  trusted  his 
heart,  and  whose  service  had  so  honored  him. 


«CORNWALLIS  IS  TAKEN!"  241 

Washington  ordered  the  French  army  to  the  Virginia 
peninsula,  and  with  them  went  the  grand  regiment  of 
Gatinais,  or  Gatinois,  with  which  many  years  before  Ro- 
chambeau  had  won  his  fame.  The  heroes  of  old  Auvergne 
were  to  be  given  the  opportunity  to  fight  for  liberty  here, 
as  they  had  done  in  the  days  of  old. 

These  heroes  had  had  their  regimental  name  officially 
taken  away  from  them  on  being  brought  to  America — 
Auvergne  sans  tache.  They  desired  to  serve  liberty  under 
this  glorious  name  of  noble  memories  again.  They  ap- 
pealed to  Rochambeau  for  that  distinction. 

Their  hearts  beat  high,  for  they  were  going  to  reen- 
force  Lafayette,  who  was  born  in  Auvergne,  and  who  had 
desired  their  presence  and  inspiration. 

So  on  sea  and  land  a  powerful  force  was  gathering 
to  shut  up  Lord  Cornwallis  in  Yorktown  and  to  shatter 
the  British  army  on  the  banks  of  the  York. 

Washington  himself  was  approaching  Lafayette  by 
way  of  Philadelphia,  Rochambeau  by  way  of  Chester  and 
Philadelphia,  and  De  Grasse  by  the  sea.  General  Thomas 
Nelson,  Governor  of  Virginia,  was  arousing  the  spirit  of 
Virginia  again  and  calling  out  the  militia. 

At  the  great  banquet  which  was  given  in  Philadelphia 
by  the  French  minister.  Chevalier  de  Luzerne,  to  Washing- 
ton and  the  French  officers,  when  came  the  news  that  Count 
De  Grasse  and  Marquis  St.  Simon  with  3,000  troops  had 
joined  Lafayette,  all  Philadelphia  had  rung  with  cheers, 
and  the  news  thrilled  the  country.  At  that  hour  the  des- 
tiny of  America  was  revealed.  There  could  but  one  thing 
happen  at  Yorktown  now — Cornwallis  must  surrender. 


242  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

The  General  was  certain  to  be  blocked  up  in  York 
Eiver. 

Everything  was  going  well.  Washing-ton  and  Ro- 
chambeau  went  to  Baltimore  and  found  the  city  blazing 
as  with  the  assurance  of  victory.  At  this  time,  with  vic- 
tory in  view,  Washington  visited  Mount  Vernon,  from 
which  he  had  been  absent  six  anxious  years.  He  passed 
the  evening  there  with  Count  Rochambeau,  and  they  were 
joined  there  by  Chastellux.  Washington  now  left  his  old 
home  for  the  field  of  final  victory. 

The  great  generals  next  faced  Yorktown,  with  their 
forces,  some  16,000  men.  They  saw  the  helplessness  of 
Cornwallis,  and  as  De  Grasse  wished  to  return  soon  to 
the  West  Indies,  the  combined  forces  prepared  to  move 
on  the  British  fortifications  at  once.  Seven  redoubts  and 
six  batteries  faced  the  allies,  with  abatis,  field-works,  and 
barricades  of  fallen  trees. 

The  allies  began  to  prepare  for  an  immediate  con- 
flict. They  erected  advancing  earthworks,  in  a  semicircle, 
and  with  the  French  fleet  in  the  bay,  the  1st  of  October 
heard  the  sound  of  the  cannonade. 

The  peninsula  thundered  and  smoked,  and  the  drama 
there  begun  was  watched  by  Washington,  Rochambeau, 
Chastellux,  and  Count  de  Grasse.  What  men  were  these 
with  Lafayette  at  the  front! 

A  great  cannonade  began  on  the  9th  of  October, 
Washington  himself  putting  the  match  to  the  first  gun. 

Governor  I«3^elson  of  Virginia  was  in  the  field.  His 
house  was  there,  too,  within  the  enemy's  lines  in  York- 
town,     "Do  you  see  yonder  house?"  said  he  to  a  com- 


"CORNWALLIS  IS  TAKEN!"  243 

mander  of  the  artillery.  It  was  the  headquarters  of  the 
enemy.     "  It  is  my  house,  but  fire  upon  it." 

This  recalls  John  Hancock's  message  to  Washington 
at  the  beginning  of  the  war.  "  Burn  Boston,  if  need  be, 
and  leave  John  Hancock  a  beggar." 

The  enemy  responded.  The  shells  of  each  crossed 
each  other  in  the  bright,  smoky  October  air.  The  British 
fired  red-hot  shot,  and  set  on  fire  some  of  their  own 
shipping.  The  nights  seemed  full  of  meteors,  as  though 
red  armies  were  battling  in  the  sky. 

The  14th  of  October  came — a  day  of  heroes.  That 
day  the  redoubts  were  to  be  stormed. 

Lafayette  prepared  his  own  men  for  the  assault. 

Then  Baron  de  Viomenil  led  out  the  heroes  of  Gatinais. 

Before  this  regiment  De  Rochambeau  appeared  to  give 
them  their  orders,  which  meant  death.  He  had  won,  as 
we  have  said,  his  own  fame  in  Europe  with  these  moun- 
tain heroes.  The  attack  to  which  he  was  to  order  them 
now  was  to  be  made  at  night. 

"  My  lads,"  said  he,  "  I  have  need  of  you  this  night, 
and  I  hope  that  you  will  not  forget  that  we  have  served 
together  in  that  brave  regiment  of  Auvergne  sans  tache." 

A  cheer  went  up  in  memory  of  old,  followed  by: 

"  Restore  to  us  our  name  of  '  Auvergne  sans  tache ' 
and  we  will  die." 

"  That  name  shall  be  restored,"  said  Rochambeau. 

They  marched  to  death  side  by  side  with  the  bold  regi- 
ment of  Lafayette,  who  was  to  lead  the  advance. 

About  eight  o'clock  the  signal  rockets  for  the  attack 
reddened  the  sky. 


244  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

The  regiment  of  Gatinais  rushed  forward.  They 
faced  the  hardest  resistance  of  the  -siege.  This  redoubt 
was  powerfully  garrisoned  and  fortified. 

Baron  de  Viomenil  led  his  heroes  into  the  fire,  and 
his  men  fought  like  ancient  heroes,  to  whom  honor  was 
more  than  life.  In  the  midst  of  the  struggle  an  aide  came 
to  him  from  Lafayette. 

"  I  am  in  the  redoubt,"  said  the  message.  "  Where 
are  you  ?  " 

"  I  will  be  in  my  redoubt  in  five  minutes." 

Strongly  fortified  as  that  redoubt  was,  it  could  not 
withstand  the  men  of  Gatinais.  They  entered  it  with  a 
force  that  nothing  could  withstand,  but  one  third  of  them 
fell. 

"  Royal  Auvergne,"  said  Rochambeau,  "  your  sur- 
vivors shall  have  your  own  name  again." 

He  reported  the  action  to  the  French  King,  and  the 
latter  gave  back  to  the  heroes  their  regimental  name  of 
old  Auvergne  sans  tache. 

These  men  are  worthy  of  a  monument  under  that  noble 
motto.  We  repeat,  the  words  should  be  used  on  decorative 
ensigns  of  the  Sons  of  the  Revolution;  nothing  nobler 
in  war  ever  saw  the  light. 

Yorktown  fell  on  the  morning  of  the  17th,  and  a 
courier  sped  toward  Philadelphia,  crying,  as  he  went: 
"  Cornwallis  is  taken !  "     Bells  rang,  people  cheered. 

The  messenger  reached  Philadelphia  at  night — "  Corn- 
wallis is  taken !  " 

Windows  opened.    The  citizens  leaped  from  their  beds. 


"CORNWALLIS  IS  TAKEN  I"  245 

The  bells  rang  on,  and  the  city  blazed  with  lights,  and 
Congress  gave  way  to  transports  of  joy. 

Dennis  and  Peter  came  riding  back  to  the  alarm-post, 
shouting  by  the  way,  "  Cornwallis  is  taken !  " 

The  Governor  knelt  down  in  the  war  office,  and  the 
people  shouted  without  the  silent  place. 

Peter  could  afford  to  be  magnanimous  now  to  his 
feeble  old  uncle.  He  hurried  to  the  old  man's  cabin  and 
knocked  at  the  door. 

"  I  chop  wood,"  said  a  voice  within. 

"  Uncle,  it  is  Peter.     Cornwallis  has  surrendered  I  " 

The  latch  was  lifted,  and  the  wood-chopper  appeared 
as  one  withered  and  palsied. 

"  What  is  that  you  tell  me  ?  Cornwallis  has  surren- 
dered ?    What  has  become  of  the  King  ?  " 

"  The  cause  of  the  King  is  lost ! " 

"  Then  I  don't  see  that  I  have  anything  more  to  live 
for.  Come  in.  I  have  nothing  against  you  now,  so  far 
as  I  am  concerned,  for  you  came  hack — don't  you  remem- 
ber that  on  the  night  that  I  was  to  have  been  robbed  you 
came  back?  I  have  never  forgotten  that.  You  came 
back." 

He  tottered  to  the  chest  beside  the  table. 

"  Here,  let  me  open  the  chest  now  while  I  have 
strength  to  unlock  the  lid.  The  King!  the  King!  How 
he  will  feel  when  he  hears  the  news!  And  he  said  of 
young  Trumbull,  '  I  pity  him.*  His  heart  will  go  do^vn 
like  a  sailor  on  the  sea  on  a  stormy  night.  Peter,  I  feel 
for  him.     Don't  you  pity  him?     Sit  down  by  me." 


246  BROTHER  JONATHAN 

He  lifted  the  lid  of  the  chest,  and  took  out  of  the 
chest  a  leather  bag.  He  untied  the  bag-string,  and  turned 
a  pile  of  doubloons  on  the  table. 

"  One.  That  is  yours.  You  came  hach  to  your  poor 
old  uncle  on  the  night  when  the  robber  was  trying  to 
find  me. 

"  Two.     It  is  yours,  for  you  came  back. 

"  Three.  My  sight  is  going.  It  is  all  yours,  for  you 
came  back. 

"  My  hands  grow  numb,  the  world  is  going.  I  can 
feel  it  going.  But  all  that  I  leave  is  yours.  My  breath 
grows  cold.  I  have  only  time  to  say,  '  God  save  the  King ! ' 
I  want  to  go,  and  leave  what  I  have  to  you,  Peter,  for 
you  came  back.  Good-by,  earth;  I  leave  you  my  wood- 
pile ;  warm  yourself  by  my  fire  when  I  am  gone.  God — 
save — the — King !  " 

He  sat  silent.  Peter  bent  over  him.  The  old  man's 
breath  was  cold,  and  soon  the  last  pulse  beat. 

Peter  gathered  up  the  gold.  He  would  turn  it  into 
education  at  Plainfield  Academy  and  at  Yale  College. 
Then  he  would  go  away,  after  Dennis,  perhaps,  to  the 
Western  territory  which  would  become  a  new  Connect- 
icut. 

a) 

THE    END 


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